Are you Are you
by CeleneLancaster
Summary: Six years since a fiery blaze sent people into the streets to watch their home burn to the ground. Burns and smoke die and fade, and people continue to live, but some wounds take more time to heal, and others need aid to close fully.
1. Part I: Prologue

_Part 1_

Six years... six years since the fire, since that home was sent ablaze and the residence sent out onto the streets in fear and pain. The loss of life, of home, of security was overwhelming, and the inhabitants scarred, flesh and soul from what happened there. Forced to relocate and rebuild, the normalcy of life would come slowly, but the wounds would be slow to heal...

"Here it is ladies and gentleman! Come feast your eyes on the gallow! Still in it's original form, not having robbed another criminal of life for five years! This is the very place where the monster of Paris was hung! Yes! That's right, the Phantom of the Opera was hung at this very spot!" The caller's voice was piercing in that foggy autumn day, catching travelers in a memorizing tale of the burning of the great opera house. Those leaving Paris were called out and would stop to hear the story, how the Phantom was caught as he tried to flee the city and hung, a trial not even needed. Even the nobility were entranced in the fear of one of their own meeting a terrible death in the depths of the vaults under the theatre. Another opera house had been rebuilt, and would soon be presenting shows to the entertainment hungry crowds of Paris, but their audience would be captivated by the show as well as fear, would a murder present himself in this theatre as well?

"Shut the window Nadine, I don't want to hear that rambling." There was a shift in the carriage as the shutters were pulled shut, turning the tale of Don Juan into nothing but jumbled and muffled noises. A sigh of relief followed, "Thank you."

"Are you alright Mademoiselle? Shall I call for the driver to stop?" Nadine moved back to her seat. The old willow of a maid had always been attentive in her long years of service, acclaimed on of the best nurse-maids by the family. White hair was pulled back into a tight bun, kept in place with an unknown number of pins, and her plain charcoal dress with white trimming gave her a more dignified look than some of the young maids seen in Paris. "You looked quiet fatigue..."

"I did not sleep well last night Nadine. I will be fine when we get home."

"I see, then rest your eyes and I will watch and make sure all is well," the maid coaxed gently, but by the time the last syllable left her mouth, the young woman in the carriage was already asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Yep, so since it is Thanksgiving break and I am in dire need to be writing something besides history papers, I decided to strike up another story. I have the structure in my head, and it will be in four parts, and of course Part 1 is the shortest. Hope you enjoy, I will try to get as much written before I go back as possible and post things in a three day interval to give me some time. There will be a break after Thanksgiving, since I'll have three weeks left of classes, then I hope to crank out the majority of the story during winter break. Again, hope you enjoy, reviews are awesome. And yes, I do have a fascination with Gerard Butler, so deal with it for now. Thanks!<strong>

-Celene


	2. Part I

_Part 1.1_

Nestled between Tours and Paris sat hills peppered with chateau and estates of the wealthy. A retreat from the fast pace of Paris for many, but the permanent residence of Zoé Roussel and her father. A fire, started by a careless servant, had sent them out into the night one winter, shivering, mourning, and taking stock of what they had loss. Relocating to the gentle hills and plains south of Paris, they had purchased a new house, and Zoé's father was able to continue his business without the constant reminder of the events that occurred that winter night. At twenty-seven, the duties of a daughter to marry and bring honor to her family had been put aside to preserve the estate of her father and ensure his survival in her absence. Blending into the nobility and the affluent that they once freely partook, Zoé's activities limited her abilities to socialize, and all but a few of her friends had been lost to either neglect or a marriage that took them far away. She did not let her mind stray to the loss, there was too much of the present to take up her thoughts and energy. There was a business to run and her father's estate to take care of, friends and marriage would have to wait.

The moment the carriage came to a stop on that gravel road, the door was open and Zoé stepped out, murmuring a small thanks to the coachman, who held her hand as she gathered her skirt up to step down. Once Nadine stepped out, the coach was led away to the barn, where their things would be removed and taken into the house. By the standards of her neighbors, the chateau they lived in was small and quaint. It had two stories and was crescent shaped. In the center, right behind the main entrance there was a foyer and small ballroom off of the dining room on the first floor. The west side of the house, in one wing, was the kitchen and behind it a few yards the stables, and on the east side of the house was a drawing room and reception room which overlooked the gardens and lake that rested a hundred yards behind the house. The second story above the kitchen was the servants quarters, the middle section housed Zoé and her father's room, and the east wing held the guest rooms. Quaint, was what her friends had said when they visited the spring after they moved into the house, and now they never visited. Country life was too quiet, too secluded for their tastes, or the tastes of their friends, but to Zoé it was a breath of fresh air. Gravel would crutch under her soft and worn leather boots, that pale green skirt barely skimming the surface as she crossed the yard and entered the house. Immediately there was a call from the servants, but Zoé shook off their attentions, her travel gloves coming off and were clutched in her hand as she ascended the staircase to the second floor. A greeting fell from Hugo, her father's servant who came with them from Paris, and Zoé would smile, kissing his cheek before moving. She headed straight to her father's room, knocking gently before entering the receiving room, light pouring in from the sun, still sinking in the west.

XxXxXx

"While you were away Mademoiselle, Monsieur d'Allemagne called on you. I told him you were on business in Paris and he was very distraught. He shall try to call on you again," Hugo announced and Zoé entered the drawing room, intending to catch up on finances before dinner was served. Nadine would enter, having unpacked their things, and gave Hugo a small smile and a kiss. The peace of the reunion did not seem to put Zoé at ease, and she started to tug at her tight bun. Long black hair coursed down her shoulders, and she ran her long thin fingers through them, tugging out the knots as she sat down at her desk, papers neatly organized in her absence. Hugo would come, lighting a candle on the desk, "Should I send him a letter notifying him of your return?"

"No. If Monsieur d'Allemagne intends to return sometime in the future, then I do not think it would be redundant of me to inform him..." _and imprudent since I will be avoiding him..._

"Come now Zoé, the boy has been insistent for months. He is pleasant and his family has known yours for generations," Nadine chided. "He comes doting on you and you return his kindness by aloofness and absence."

"That is because I have experience with this man, and worse I have heard the stories of his antics in Paris."

"Your father would want you to give time equally between his estate and your own happiness. I have not told him of your actions and avoidance of suitors, but..."

"Hugo, please. Once the debts are paid off and the business set, then I will think of myself. I cannot pursue happiness if I worry about my father," she replied, starting to go the stack of letters, banks, business partners, suitors, and a number from Monsieur d'Allemagne. She sighed, sorting them out and starting through the bank notes.

"The two problems can be solved with one action..." Nadine offered.

"No. I have told you numerous times, as well as my father, just because we have fallen on hard times does not mean I will marry for money. Happiness is not necessarily found with money, nor does money produce happiness. Please, leave me to my work and call me for supper. Hugo, one of the mares may have been limping, please speak to Maxime about that. And Nadine, ensure that Violette uses whatever is near expired for dinner. I would rather not have anything go to waste." The old couple would sigh and retreat, leaving her to her work.

Zoé raced through the letters, loans coming up had already been paid, the reason for her trip to Paris in the first place. Then came the letters from family friends, personal loans and favors needing to be repaid, the sums soon totaled and placed to the side, each individual loan ranked from the greatest need to the least. The time spent was not nearly enough, and Zoé stared at the pile of letters, some inscribed with crisp and elegant script, others a boyish scribble. She knew what they would entail; invitations to dinners, picnics, dances, carriage rides, walks, plays, operas, every social event conceivable could be reason for the wealthy sons of Paris, Orléans and Tours to call her from her home. Flashy dresses, extravagant events that sang of the wealth and nobility of the family, tangible displays of their influence that Zoé had come to distaste. Of course in her younger years, introduced to the public and the company of her parents to social events, she moved through the circles of the rich and powerful, dancing with the sons and admiring their splendor with want and awe. Something changed when she watched all that wealth burn in front of her, the fire heating her face as her fingers and toes froze in the frigid January snow, the cold wind sending a chill through her spine although the flames seemed to be sprouting from the hottest part of hell. No, she didn't want to meet the eligible men, she didn't want to flaunt her status because it had fallen with those flames. She was a meager individual, and although the suitors would help her station, they could not make her want the things they wanted, more power and wealth.

Then there was the pile of letters, four in all, one for every week she had been gone, and one from Luc's recent visit. The boy who had been fawning over her since her first entrance into the circles of Paris. Fawning may have been too innocent of a word. Luc was a confident man, strong mind, sharp wit and impressive specimen of what the families of France wished for their sons to be. Eyes, crisp dark blue and cool like the lake behind her house, that could pierce the hearts and souls of any who laid eyes on him, and Zoé had watched her friends fall weakly and flutter like children under his gaze. A confrontation could be won with a creasing of that brow, as she had seen many times, and his charm could defuse the tension if the look did not will his subject to submission. That's what Luc vied for, but Zoé had met every look of his with her own warm green eyes, ever confident and enduring. His wit and banter met with her own, never a blush as her other companions normally did, unable to talk in his presence. That brow would furrow in frustration, his widow's peak even more present, that sandy blonde hair with it's dark roots giving him a younger look, but he was three years her senior. Every woman he encountered had her heart melted and tamed within moments, but for Luc, his match had not yielded more than an inch in over ten years. That's why, Zoé felt, he called on her, vied for her, begged her to accompany him with those crisp blue eyes, because she was the one game he could not subdue.

"Must be the stubborn English in him," she muttered under her breath as she pushed those letters to the side. Again her hand ran from her scalp to the tips of her hair, letting them fall back against her shoulder blades. No, she wouldn't think on suitors today. Braiding her hair back and tying it with a cord she stood and walked out of the east door, into the gardens surrounding the back of the house.

* * *

><p><strong>Now I know why I always got frustrated at Fanfiction... hate not having an indent button to use. Qué lastima. I'll make due, hope all of you can as well. Part 1 is long, the first part is the introprologue, and now we're getting into the meat of it. Yes, no Phantom. Sorry people, but calm down. It's going to be a long ride and he'll get here eventually. Enjoy**

**-Celene**


	3. Part I:II

_Part 1.2_

"Oh Maxime! Stop with your stories, you'll give Thérèse nightmares," Nadine shot as she entered the kitchen where the servants were gathering to talk. Hugo was already there, helping Violette with chopping vegetables for the stew. Thérèse stood next to the small wooden table, beating out dough the best she could, but obviously having been distracted by Maxime's story. He had been recounting the man on the highway, and now the stableman's arms were spread wide, recounting the crashing chandelier. At the sound of Nadine, Maxime gave a huff, turning to face the old woman with a sour look.

"Was just having fun that's all. The girl never 'ear the story and I was just telling her..."

"What? Telling her stories that chill the hearts of even grown men? She's heard enough from the papers, she doesn't need some story conjured from a probable highwayman," Nadine shot, stepping over to Thérèse.

"Is it true? Is that where they hanged him?" the seventeen year old asked in ernest, looking around the faces to see if anyone knew for certain.

"On my way back from Paris, a month after that whole Opera business, I did see some body up there wearing some fashionable cloths... but the body was all decayed. They had a sign of Opera Ghost above the body, but they had the thing pulled down within a few days... heard that Daae girl made them," Hugo reminisced as he scooped up a handful of carrots and threw them into the pot. "Everyone made it sound like it had been him, but I never saw the actual hanging, and I doubt anyone else here did..."

"Oh..." Thérèse sighed, pushing a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear as she moved the dough into bread pans.

"Oh? You know what that man did girl?" Maxime almost yelled as he tossed his apple into the waste bin. "He killed people with his bare hands! At least three from my memory, and capture that ballet girl and her fiance, the Vicomte. Would have killed him too, but no one's been talking about how they escaped. That man deserved to die, three hangings of his own, and who knows how many people died in the fire. He's a murder that one." Thérèse looked positively shocked and Hugo glared at Maxime. "I ain't wrong you know."

"Yes, but yelling doesn't make you right," Hugo shot, and the stableman stormed off to his work, leaving the rest of the servants to mull over his outburst.

"So... Monsieur d'Allemagne was here?" Nadine asked, wanting to change the subject to something lighter. The color returned immediately to Thérèse's pale face, a smile creasing over her lips. She had been smitten with the man since he had first called to check up on the Roussel family five years ago.

"Oh yes! Two days ago calling on Mademoiselle. He looked surprised when I told him that you and Mademoiselle went to Paris only accompanied by Maxime. He asked who you were staying with, I guess he thought you would have called on him and stayed at his family's house in Paris..."

"Heavens no, Mademoiselle would have never allowed it even if I suggested it," Nadine laughed softly. "She's a stubborn girl, we stayed at a hotel for the three weeks. It was nothing too terrible, and she had all the business finished and bought new supplies for the house which should come any day."

"Yes, well, Monsieur left another letter for her in her absence. Three weeks in Paris, Nadine? Oh I wish I could have come along. It's beautiful isn't it? Compared to the country? So many people and attractions..." Thérèse seemed to gaze off, her own day dreams of going to Paris flittering behind those chocolate eyes.

"There is certainly more people that's for sure, but with the fast pace of the city, being back here is a relief. Cars in the streets, people as far as you can see."

"What I would give to visit," Thérèse sighed, returning to her duties, pulling out some more dough to turn into biscuits.

"Maybe you can ask Mademoiselle Roussel the next time she intends to go into town," Violette offered, checking up on the stew and transferring some of the onion that Hugo was chopping to the mix.

"She would have me stay inside and only go to boring places," the young woman pouted. "I wouldn't get to have any fun."

"Don't complain Thérèse, Paris is no place for wishful thinking. It is a wondrous city, but there are villains in it," Violette scolded, sending Thérèse back to kneading with a huff, sending flour all over her skirt. Nadine just chuckled, touching Thérèse's shoulder, promising that she would speak to Zoé before leaving the kitchen to check on the housework.

XxXxXxXx

Zoé returned from her walk in time for dinner, a simple affair with the servants in the kitchen. There were no guests to entertain, so the dinning room was a useless extravagance. With a tray in hand, Zoé would climb the stairs to her father's room, knocking gently with her foot before the door swung open and she entered, kicking it shut behind her.

"Father, I brought some dinner," Zoé smiled, crossing the softly lit room to her father's desk. He sat, hunched over his desk, pen dancing over paper. A fit of coughing would take him as he breathed in, wheezing and his entire body shuttering, Zoé paused to let the fit pass. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, her covered his mouth, wiping away the sputum before turning to face her with a smile.

"Ah, the every doting daughter..." Jacques-Gilles Roussel sat up, the light catching on the streaks of white in his black hair. "I assumed you have already taken care of the letters left for you?" Zoé swore that there was more white than black now, approaching the desk with her best pleasant face.

"Yes, the banks are fully payed off. Now it's only personal loans from friends," she set the tray in front of him, a meager meal of soup, biscuits and a glass of wine. "Business in Paris is doing well, the workers and managers have had a lot of customers. At this rate we should be able to pay off everything else within the next couple of years." Monsieur Roussel would nod, reaching out with a shaking hand to grasp that spoon, he started to eat. He sat in silence as Zoé retold what happened, giving him the remaining sums to be paid and to whom. Bringing regards from his friends and partners at the factory.

"I am sorry I did not hear this when you arrived this morning, I was not feeling well," her father apologized as he placed his spoon down and pushed that tray away, a glass in hand.

"Do not worry, I was still flustered myself, you know how I get on long rides," Zoé smiled. "You need your rest still.."

"Yes, but I have been resting for six years now... you think this body would have recovered by then."

"Hush, you are still a young man with many years left," Zoé would take that tray, removing it from the desk before sitting back with her father.

"I heard that Monsieur d'Allemagne was calling for you, he sent me his best wishes for my health before he left," again that pen was in his hand as he returned to the paper on his desk.

"Yes well he couldn't very well call on your daughter without extending some warm compliments to the father," his daughter smirked, pulling back a stray hair from her face. She stood, knowing where this conversation was going, and it was in her best interests not to be able to look at her father. She moved to tidy up his room, collecting shirts to be washed as he continued.

"Have you accepted his invitation?"

"What invitation?" Zoé asked, armful of linens. She strolled to the other side of the room to dispose of them in a basket. A chuckled came from her father as he looked back at her.

"I count myself lucky to have a willful and capable daughter, but in this instance Zoé, I wish that you were as meek as some of your fellows."

"Father..."

"The boy has been calling on you for years..."

"Yes, I know. We've talked, we've met on business, he even accompanied me along the road as I left for business. We have seen each other, Father."

"You keep him at arms length, child. He came calling to invite you to an autumn ball his family is throwing at their estate. Many of your friends from Paris will be there, it would be good for you."

"I do not."

"He has sent invitation after invitation and you act as if he has never looked at you more than a glance." He straighten up as best he could, to face his daughter who continued to flit around the room, organizing and picking up discarded pieces of paper or cloth. "Zoé, child look at me." The woman froze, a discarded pillow in her hand. She turned slowly, shoulder slouched in defeat as she turned to look in her father's eyes. "You will write Monsieur d'Allemagne that you accept his invitation to the ball and will be delighted."

"But... I don't have an escort..." This earned a laugh from her father before he looked back over his paper.

"Dear child, I believe he's not expecting you to."

* * *

><p><strong>... not much to say about this section. Just having fun setting up the setting. Enjoy<strong>

-Celene


	4. Part I:III

_Part 1.3_

The door slammed with such force that Zoé thought she broke the frame and the door would come crashing down in moments. She knew she was acting childish, locking herself in her room to storm and mope about something her father wanted her to do, but what other choice was there? Go to him crying? Begging to not make her go? How could she do that? Even before the fire, anytime her father asked something of her, she was terrified to disappoint him. How could she get out of this without disappointing her father? She couldn't even bring herself to blame Hugo... everyone in the house knew she was avoiding Luc like he was the plague reincarnate.

Why shouldn't she? He didn't move her when she was a child, and to this day she felt little for him besides the acknowledgment that he was a well read and witty individual. Was the fire and the removal from society suppose to make her fonder of the man? She paced back and forth in her room, still in those riding cloths, the sun a bare crescent on the horizon as it sunk lower and lower. Time enough... well time enough in her mind. If Maxime was there then she might not have a chance.

She grabbed her cloak and made her way downstairs, out the back door by her drawing room and walking all the way around the kitchen to make sure that she was not seen by the other servants. The sun gave her an hour, maybe an hour and a half for a good ride. The confusion and anger in her mind was not going to go away from any other means, and she feared if she didn't get out of that house she would suffocate and scream. Into the stables, the horses were already fed and combed for the night, she passed by the two drafts who pulled her carriage and instead went to her mare. The young horse snorted until Zoé produced an apple to pacify her. The blanket and saddle seemed to materialize of their own accord, and Zoé was riding off through the hills surrounding the estate.

Rolling hills and groves dotted the landscape, past the small lake, Zoé headed north, well off her lands within twenty minutes, her mare snorting and whinnying in protest as Zoé pushed on. The ride was hard, and by the time the last rays of light were disappearing over the horizon, she had little idea where she was. Heading south would return her to her lands, but she was still too angry, too upset to face her father and Hugo, and the inevitable scolding she would receive from Nadine. Continuing north, into a forest she didn't explore in her early days at the estate, she would be careful to make sure her horse did not find any uneven footing. The oaks and beech trees came in around her, a blanket to block out any rays of light from the dying sun, but luckily they did not cluster together too tightly. Urging her horse forward, she would find herself in darkness on the other side. A strong and wide creek ran between the woods and the chateau in front of her. Zoé did not recognize it, although she barely knew any of her neighbors, she didn't think she'd even heard of someone living out here. The sun had fully set by then, and she knew if she did not return soon, her father would be in a panic and the house would be in an uproar trying to find her. She urged her horse to turn around, although the stubborn animal had already moved to the creek to try and get a drink of water.

"No, no come one we have to head home," she said sternly, pulling at the reins to the horses displeasure. It neighed and Zoé sighed, sometimes it was as ill-tempered as she was. Lanterns upon the hill were already lighting, and Zoé did not wish to be introduced looking bewildered and dirty from her ride. With a click of her tongue she finally got the horse to turn away from the bank. Getting the animal back up the embankment was a challenge, and with a small press of her heel, the horse finally climbed up the dirt bank. She saw a glint out of the corner of her right eye, turning to look back at the creek, for the source. A crunching noise came from the bushes to her left, and she barely saw the pheasant that took flight above her head. The noise was enough to scare her horse though, and in a panic the horse reigned, sending Zoé tumbling back down the bank and onto the rocky creek bed. She didn't even think she screamed when she fell, but when she hit the bank she let out a cry. She saw stars dancing in front of her eyes, the noise of that horse racing off in the distance was no more than a muffled collection of notes. The ice cold creek was quick to soak through her sleeves and knees, and Zoé tried to pull herself up, only to feel a rush of nausea that soon sent her back onto the gravel bank.

_Great, I will die because I acted like a stupid child,_ dramatic, but with no way to get home, barely able to move, and it already night, death could come, or at least a bad illness. She counted, but lost track, the passing of time was only marked by her cloths, inch upon inch growing wet as the water seemed to creep up her skirt. Again, Zoé tried to stand, only to be sent back down on the bank with a groan. Her hand touched her forehead, feeling something wet and ragged beneath those fingertips. She looked at her fingers, knowing they were wet with blood, but she couldn't barely see them in the darkness. A wince and soft curse left her lips as she felt pressure upon her temple again, but her hands were no where near her forehead. The pain sent her reeling, shuttering as the world seemed to spin. She was moving, she knew that much. "Who...?" There was no response, and as the set of arms jarred her, the movement was too much, and the blinding pain in her skull took over, sending her into darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Uh oh! Yeah, sorry it's so corny. I didn't mean for it to be and ugh... it just came out that way. Oh well, I'll make due. Entire thing is based around a song I just learned soooo if you wanna have fun, try and figure out what the song is through all of these parts. Good luck and have fun! Enjoy.<strong>

-Celene


	5. Part II

_Part II_

"Oh... Mary, mother of..." Zoé groaned as the glare and blurs around her finally started to focus into familiar shapes. She was on a bed, a small four poster thing with musty old sheets and linens. A soft pink light was entering the east window, giving her some indication of what time it was. She laid back, eyes screwed shut to keep the bright morning light out. Another wave of nausea washed over her, and she felt as if the room was spinning and she would retch. Only the sound of a door opening could make her eyes open, and she saw a plump old woman, with stringy brown hair pulled back by a ribbon, entering the room.

"Ah! You're up! Good, my Thomas was worried about that bruise on your head, but you were sleeping so calmly that I didn't the Lord would have the will to rob you," she smiled. She must have been at least five and a half feet tall, a few inches short of Zoé for sure, but with more meat on her bones. Her skin was tanned, probably from working outside in her youth, but pocked with rosette type scars, at least a few on her arms and on her neck. Zoé ignored them as the woman soon hovered, over her, a warm bandaged pressed to her temple, making the nausea roll through her again before subsiding. "Ah, it's going down. Not too bad of a cut either. Monsieur put something on it, and look, inflammation is down already. My Thomas found your horse too this morning, at the stream close to where you fell. Where did you come from dear? Get lost in that patch of woods?"

"Nno..." her voice was raspy, and Zoé felt an urge of thirst drive her as that tongue felt heavy and slimy. "I...I was riding at the edge of my property and... I thought there was enough light for me to continue. Curiosity got the best of me I fear. A pheasant startled my horse and she bucked me..."

"I see... yes those birds like to trail along the creek for a drink before disappearing into the woods or fields." The pump woman explained as she cleaned the cut on Zoé's forehead. "Lucky for you Monsieur found you. If he hadn't been on one of his walks, who knows when we would have found you."

_So that's where the glint of light came from..._ Zoé supposed at least. She tried to push herself up, but as a wave of dizziness came over her, the woman seemed to panic, coaching her back onto her back even though Zoé was already obliging.

"Don't move so fast! You're head took a pretty good hit, and you're lucky the cut is not so deep. Thomas will drive you back to your chateau this morning, he's getting the carriage ready and will be up to help you soon."

"Who... who owns this house?" Zoé finally asked, able to get a word in the moment the woman took a breath. The older woman fell silent, looking at Zoé closely, but as the younger woman caught her eyes, she relented.

"Monsieur Larocque lives in this house madame."

"It's Mademoiselle, and it seems that I owe Monsieur Larocque greatly for his kindness, you as well Madame, and your son as well," Zoé shifted so she could look at the doe brown eyes of the woman, "Thank you Madame."

"It is no trouble my dear. What were we suppose to do? Leave you in that creek to freeze to the bone? You barely have flesh on that body, even the wolves would have let you be," she smiled, squeezing Zoé's shoulder gently. "Now, why don't you tell me where you live and I'll tell my son. He'll have you home soon enough, especially if you live as close as you believe." With a sigh, Zoé would lean back and give the woman directions, her hand coming to hold her head as she tried to remember the path she had taken.

"Oh... my father is going to scold me for sure."

"I wouldn't doubt it Mademoiselle, I would scold my own child if he road as far as you did without a word," she smiled, giving Zoé's had a squeeze. "Do not fret, it shows that he loves you."

"Then lets hope he doesn't love me too much," Zoé managed to laugh with a small wince. "Thank you again Madame..."

"Avril, just call me Avril dear. I never much liked titles like that," she smiled. "And what about you? Are you fond enough of that title for me to call you mademoiselle for the rest of our greetings."

"No... heh, I would rather be called Zoé if anything at all. My name is Zoé Roussel, Madame..."

"Avril, dear!" the woman chided with a laugh. "Now rest up and I will go talk to my son about getting you home."

Zoé nodded, closing her eyes again as the door closed behind Avril. Her head was swimming, but it wasn't as bad as the night before. Her cloths were still wet, but the embers dying in the fire kept her warm and even dried some of her cloths. Light continued to pour into the room, bouncing off of the cream colored walls making the yellow and creme stone that surrounded the windows glow, and the white drapes would billow as the cool morning breeze came in. A shaking sigh escaped her lips and she would drift off to a fitful sleep, her body feeling sore all over.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, so this is probably the only post for this week. I'm swamped with end of school stuff. Although I have Part II 90% completed, I am literally too swamped to chop it up into blocks and post. Sorry. It is very long though, so once this week is over you'll get a post at least on Saturday and then back on my 3 day schedule. Sorry for the long note, but I just wanted to give everyone a heads up! Thanks for reading<strong>

**-Celene**


	6. Part II:I

_Part II: I_

"How is she, mom?" came a gentle voice, Thomas stepped into the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel around his waist. Dressed in a plain white shirt with a dark green vest, his brown pants were mud splattered and frayed on the ends, and his boots grimy and worn, but solid. He rubbed his head, tossing up that long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. The same dark brown eyes looked up at him with a sigh as she moved around the kitchen, putting things on a plate.

"Fine, fine, awake and all there it seems. Was able to tell me her name and where she lived, a few dozen kilometers south it seems. The land behind the woods is hers..."

"Better not tell her that we hunt on that land..."

"I don't think she would mind," Avril chuckled. "Now, go run this up to Monsieur Larocque..."

"No... mom he said he wanted to talk to you after she got up," Thomas said, picking an pear out of the basket on the table. He sat down, propping his feet up on the corner of the table. "Better hurry mom." Avril sighed, swatting her son's feet off the table.

"Go do something useful, instead of sitting around here like a beggar. Get her horse tethered to the coach and then go up and introduce yourself to the poor girl," Avril would lift that tray and start to move through the small chateau. The bottom levels held her room and her sons room, right off the kitchen, the small entrance way and a dining room. Avril would move through the dining room to a small door at the far end, hidden by a hutch on the west side of the building. Placing the tray onto the hutch, Avril pulled the embroidered wall hanging to the side and opened the heavy oak door behind it.

The old watchtower on the west side was three stories, two of the levels occupied, so when Avril stepped onto the first, it was only an entrance. Ascending the staircase, she passed by a drawing room, light pouring into the room through narrow windows, reflecting off of mirrors, filling the room with light even in the early hours of the morning. The narrow twisting staircase would continue though to the third level, and Avril would continue onward, the sounds of music starting to echo down in the stairwell and fill the house. The melodies were slow and deep, starting to move Avril, but not enough to make her stop. The tray was set down on a dark mahogany desk, making sure there was nothing under the tray. She knew after years now not to disturb him when he was playing, but as she moved to leave, the organ became silent. "How is she?"

"Good Monsieur Larocque. I asked her the questions you told me to when she woke, she remembered her name and where she lived, and she didn't pass out while talking to me. Tried to sit up a few times with trouble, but she's doing well," Avril reported, standing near the stairwell.

"Her name?"

"Mademoiselle Zoé Roussel. She lives a few dozen kilometers south of here, past the woods," Avril relayed, watching his reaction quietly, but his back was to her, so there was little information revealed. "Thomas should be with her now. He will be driving her to her home as soon as I go to help him with her."

"Does she remember anything? Why was she here?"

"She was riding on the edge of her property and decided to venture into the woods in the fading light, a pheasant startled the animal and sent her into the creek. She didn't say anything about you bringing her into the house, Monsieur."

"Good. Tell Thomas not to linger and answer any questions her people may have. He is to see her home and that is it."

"Yes, Monsieur."

"That is all, Avril."

"Yes, Monsieur," and with that Avril was descending the staircase, exiting on the second floor through another hidden door in the drawing room. Music started to filter back down the stairwell, and Avril smiled, hearing her son talking down the hall. When she entered, seeing Zoé sitting up nearly made her faint. "Thomas! What are you doing? She shouldn't be sitting up!" Avril came rushing through the door. She immediately went to the bed to look Zoé over, who just chuckled a little.

"Madame I am fine, and I asked for him to help me sit up," Zoé assured, shifting in the bed as Thomas pulled himself to stand from his seat on the window sill. "Please don't be cross with him."

"He knows better than to do such things," Avril reached over to swat her son's shoulder. "Now Mademoiselle Roussel, I bet you wish to be going home."

"Oh! Yes... I think my father will be in a panic if I don't return soon." She made to stand, immediately having Thomas rush to her side as she faltered.

"Sitting up is one thing Mademoiselle, but I don't think walking is quiet within your grasp," he wrapped an arm around her waist, allowing her to lean on him as they started down the staircase.

"The music... it stopped," Zoé commented as the small group exited the chateau. It was the first time that Zoé could see the front of the building. Yellow and creme stones were the basic construction, and the front foyer area stuck out a good five feet from the rest of the chateau. The entire building was three stories tall, large open windows On the east side of the house, a chimney would come from the top, an indicator that was the side that held the kitchen. The west side held what looked like a tower, the bricks were darker and tightly packed, but it spanned the three stories easily, uncoupling with the house only at the third level, where it stretched over the third story by a few feet. The pointed grey roof shown in the sun, a few windows on the attic, but it did not house any sizable room.

Thomas helped her into the carriage, turning an eye to look back over the house. "Yes well... Monsieur Larocque must be eating breakfast. He doesn't like to be disturbed when he is in the middle of playing... He must have finished his song," the explanation was simple, but Zoé didn't question it as she settled into the seat, another wave of dizziness making the world spin. She could hear the snorting of her horse behind the carriage, but didn't turn to look at her. The woods laid beyond the house, she could see the tops of the trees from her glance over the house, it must sit on a hill above the creek. Zoé just sighed, turning her head to Avril.

"Please extend my deepest thanks to Monsieur Larocque. I fear my foolishness has embarrassed my family. I'm grateful for his assistance and hospitality. If there is anything he needs, simply ask and I will do everything in my power."

"Oh Mademoiselle, you are too kind. Your ability to return in solid health is the only thanks we need," Avril smiled, patting Zoé's knee. "Keep well Mademoiselle. I hope never to see you in this state again."

"As do I Madame, as do I," Zoé smiled, and with a click from Thomas, the carriage lurched forward, heading off down the road, shadowed by a row of beech trees. Zoé closed her eyes and let out a sigh.

* * *

><p><strong>Finals Week... a little busy so I'll update again when I can.<strong>

-Celene


	7. Part II:II

_Part II: II_

"How long have you and your mother worked for Monsieur Larocque?" Zoé asked as the trees broke into open fields, the winding road avoiding hills, taking her around the outskirts of her property before it joined up with the main road. The drive would be a long one on this route, but Zoé didn't mind. The sun was warm on her face, but the cool breeze kept her from being overwhelmed, she felt better as well.

"Just about six years ma'am," Thomas answered briefly. It struck her as odd, since he was quick to talk about the multitude of animals that habited the creek, and the garden that Zoé could smell but never saw. On this topic however, his answer was short.

"And how long have you lived in that chateau?" she switched the subject to the house, something that Thomas seemed to be fond of, but again the answer would be short.

"Nearly the same amount of time ma'am."

"Ah and you said you're about sixteen, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am..."

"I have a girl under my employment about the same age. Thérèse is a delightful girl, bright, quick to learn and has a very sharp memory. Very pretty girl..."

"Really?" Thomas asked, turning to look at Zoé, who only returned a smile.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll be able to see when you drop me off. Her mother does most of the cooking at my house." The silence that followed was stifling, but it wasn't for lack of questions. Zoé had never heard of Monsieur Larocque, and hadn't seen him at any the social events that she had been forced to. Thomas stiffed at any mention of him, as if he was afraid. "Thomas... has Monsieur Larocque been kind to you and your mother?"

"Of course, why would you ask?"

"Because... frankly you two seem to stiffen and stammer whenever I inquire about him. I've seen some servants do the same... and usually because their masters were not too kind to them." Thomas seemed to shift, shaking his head with a short laugh.

"Monsieur Larocque has been nothing but generous to my mother and I, Mademoiselle, and I find it troublesome you would ask otherwise. Monsieur prefers to have a quiet life, and values his privacy. Mother and I are only respecting his wishes. If you please, I wish that we wouldn't talk about him."

"Alright Thomas, I'm sorry," Zoé would nod, turning to look over the hills, catching a glance at the lake in the distance. "We're close..."

XxXxXxXx

"Zoé? Violette come quick! It's Zoé!" Nadine came rushing from the doorway as Thomas pulled the carriage around the front of the house. Zoé would wince at the noise, but try to appear happy at the arrival of Nadine. "My god child! What happened to you?"

"An accident Nadine... just an accident. My horse got startled on my ride..." Thérèse and her mother would soon come out, rushing over to the carriage as Thomas stepped down to help with the horse.

"Violette, go get Sebastien to take the horse back to the stables. Thérèse and Nadine can help me upstairs," Zoé managed to say before the door was opened. "What happened to your head?"

"I hit a rock when I fell Thérèse," she explained, taking Nadine's hand and gently moving out of the carriage, the world didn't spin quiet so fast, but it still spun. She gripped the maid's arm tightly as she was helped from the carriage. Nadine would turn to Thomas, who was giving the horse away to Sebastien, the gardener who had appeared from around the house.

"We are forever in your gratitude for bring Mademoiselle Roussel home to us. Your kindness shall not be overlooked."

"It wasn't me madame. Monsieur Larocque saw her fall and brought her into the house last night. He tended the cut as well. I was just able to drive her home," Thomas said shyly, earning a small smile from Thérèse, who was supporting Zoé at this point.

"Then we shall have to repay Monsieur Larocque for his kindness, though anything will be short of what is due."

"Nadine stop, you're making the boy uncomfortable..."

"Zoé you owe this man and his Master your life!"

"And we can show it in other ways besides making Thomas flush as red as a pomegranate," she chide, looking at the nervous Thomas, obviously not use to such praise. "Thomas, extend my thank you again to Monsieur Larocque, and to you and your mother. If there is anything you need please, do not hesitate to ask." The boy would nod, quick to retreat to his carriage.

"Good bye Mademoiselle, I hope to not meet under such circumstances again," Thomas would nod, smiling at Thérèse before the carriage pulled away and back onto the road. By the time Zoé's feet passed the threshold, there was nothing she could do to silence Nadine's constant jabbering. As tired as she was, the pounding in her head was only increased as the woman fretted over her. There was something about calling Hugo, Maxime and Monsieur d'Allemagne from the search, which sent another jolt of nausea through Zoé.

* * *

><p><strong>Short I know, sorry about that. The next chapters are longer and pick up a bit more. Hope this doesn't throw people off. I should be able to update again before the week is out. Stay tuned. Thanks for reading!<strong>

-Celene


	8. Part II:III

_Part II: III _

"Nadine... please... just let me sleep for a while..." she was in her bed as Nadine paced to and fro. Her solid riding cloths had been peeled off, replaced by a cream night gown, but it was barely visible as Zoé had the covers of her bed pulled up around her, wanting to just sleep and make her throbbing head stop. Nadine's pacing sent jolts through her, the clicking of heels like a hammer driving the nail into her still swollen temple.

"Your father is on his way over..."

"Nadine, I am exhausted." This caught the maid's attention as she came rushing to Zoé's side. "Just... my father can be in here, but I'm planning on sleeping to ease the pain in my head. Please don't let anyone disturb me until dinner."

"But..."

"No Nadine. Just let me sleep till dinner," she breathed, closing her eyes and trying to doze off. Only after the clicking of Nadine's shoes left her room did Zoé settle enough to let sleep overcome her. The sleep, though needed, was not a peaceful affair. She could see the huge elm tree that hung over the creek, feeling the cold and heavy fabric of her cloths constricting around her, making her cold to the bone. Everything was fuzzy again, blurred lights, the smell of flowers, roses, planting earth, and strong arms around her, carrying her past that garden. Muffled voices, talking about her she knew, but what they were saying she couldn't understand. Warmth would chase the chills away, and Zoé would slowly wake, blinking in the dim light of her room, hearing a fire crackling in her fireplace.

"Zoé..." the voice pierced her heart. She rolled off her stomach, releasing the iron grip on her pillow. Over the twisted and tangled sheets, she saw her father, sitting next to the bed. He stood, pushing a strand of hair out of her face, she hated when he did this. It was like she was a child again, and she couldn't lie or disappoint him.

"Father... I'm sorry."

"I was thinking about the type of scolding I could have given you, but that bump above your eye seems to be the better teacher than my words," he chuckled, sitting down as Zoé was slow to sit, holding her temple as a shot of pain coursed through her.

_I'd rather take the pain then hear it in your words..._ "Yes, well it's better than it was before..."

"So the doctor said. He was in here a while ago. Whatever salve was placed on your head, it did better than all the drugs in his bag. He said it should disappear within the week," Monsieur Roussel smiled. "Monsieur Larocque has quiet a talent with medicine."

"It seems that way doesn't it?" Zoé chuckled. "We have one more item of debt to pay father."

"I was thinking the same thing, but since you have the greatest portion of the debt, you shall be the one to find the proper payment," her father smiled. "Now, Violette sent up dinner for you. She would have woken you, but you were so far gone in your dream that I wouldn't allow it. It was some heavy thing too, and I've suffered enough bumps on the head to know that it is not the best." Zoé watched as he stood, and even in his weakened state he was able to bring her over some of the soup and bread from the night before. "Leftovers I know, but I assured Violette that you would not mind."

"Thank you father," Zoé smiled and would be slow to eat. Her father would watch her, letting out a sigh before he moved back onto his chair.

"I feel as if this is partially my fault..." Zoé nearly choked on her bread, shaking her head quickly, though it did nothing to help her headache.

"Don't even think that."

"You rode because you were upset about having to go to that ball, correct?" Zoé looked at him, but turning to look at that soup, nodding slowly and hating herself for not being able to lie to him. "Ah, so if I had not force you to do it, then you wouldn't have stormed off into the night."

"I may have been upset, but it was my decision to ride last night, not yours." Zoé pressed. She didn't want him to feel bad, to place the blame on himself. He'd been doing that for years now, it was his fault for hiring the stupid girl who lit the house on fire, his fault the company had nearly failed, his fault they lived so far from their old friends and relatives. If he blamed himself for one more misfortune, Zoé wouldn't be able to look into his eyes without seeing grief. "Zoé, you don't have to go to the ball if you don't want to. I will not force you to." Her father took her hand, squeezing it gently.

"I'm sorry child."

"Father..." Zoé sighed, squeezing his hand back. "If you blame yourself for this I won't forgive myself. I will go to the ball because I promised you before, and that is that. Now... lets talk about something else." Her father would sigh, patting her hand with his free one, but then would stand. "Father..."

"I only return to my study... I know Monsieur d'Allemagne would like to know how you fair, and I must write a thank you to Monsieur Larocque," he explained as he moved to her door.

"I will write a thank you to Monsieur Larocque, as you say I have the largest debt to him and I must be the one to repay it," Jacques-Gilles Roussel could only chuckle in response to his daughter's insistence.

"What a stubborn daughter I have."

XxXxXxXx

Avril faltered a little as a horseman came riding up the narrow road, slowing down as he came upon her. The chickens Avril was feeding fled as the bay horse trotted up to her. A man with greasy long brown hair and mussy, dirty cloths splattered with dirt and hay, but he didn't seem so unkept. The horse was pulled to a stop near Avril, the man looking over the house before sizing her up. "You Avril?"

"Excuse me?" Avril said, holding that bowl of grain closer to her as she picked up her skirt and withdrew. The shorter woman looked up at him through the strands of light brown hair in her eyes. "Who is asking?"

"I have a letter to Monsieur Larocque from Mademoiselle Roussel. She told me to give it to Avril, so that's who's asking," he said gruffly, pulling out a letter from his breast pocket. "Her details to where I could find the house were vague. If this is the wrong house then I can leave."

"No... no, this is the house of Monsieur Larocque. I am Avril, I will take the message," she said, brushing one of her hands clean on her skirt before taking the letter from the rider's hand.

"Thanks Madame. Have a good day," Maxime was quick to turn his horse around and spur off back down the road. Avril would walk back to the kitchen, setting down the bowl of grain as she looked over the letter. It was plain, in every sense. Monsieur Larocque's name was written in elegant script on the front, and a dark evergreen seal was on the back, but there was no flourish, no smell, nothing that would be expected from a lady of such a high class. Avril chuckled, starting her way through the house.

"Thomas! Bring the water pan up," a voice called from behind the house. Stepping out the back door, Avril moved down the stone steps into a patio. The hill over the creek had been cut into, and within the first three years, a winding garden appeared that spanned from the patio where Avril stood down to the creek. A stone path twisted down the hill, passing through gardens, the sun hidden by the pergola that encased the two paths, only opening at the entrances. Roses and other flowers were planed along the sides, scents and flora encasing the walker as they moved down to the creek. Avril would start to move, though quickly coming to the owner of the voice.

"Milon, have you seen Monsieur Larocque? I thought he was here with you and Thomas," Avril asked, looking through the twisting ivy in the levels below to see if she could find him.

"Ah, Avril. No... we heard the rider and Monsieur retired to the house. I believe he is expecting you as well," the old man recalled, the sound of sloshing water and Thomas struggling to get up the hill drifting up to them. "Come on boy!"

"I'm coming grandfather!" he called, a bit of frustration lacing his words as another grunt passed through the emerald blanket of the pergola to their level.

"Good boy," Milon smiled as Avril patted his shoulder and turned back to the house.

The passage from the lively garden to the still house was always noticeable, but Avril had strived to make it as warm as possible. She was successful with the majority of the house. The cream colored walls and ample light make the inside of the house nearly shine. It was when she passed from the second floor into that tower that the colors turned darker, the woods and stones trapped light and reflected little. Sandalwood mixed with roses, resin and other earthy smells, making the atmosphere even darker in that room. Avril didn't even make it a few steps into that drawing room before a voice came from all around her.

"Who was the rider, Avril?" The voice asked, and Avril produced the letter, turning to one of those tables littered with paper. Monsieur Larocque was not sitting at it, but was rather at the small slit of a window, overlooking the front of the house where he was able to see everything about the exchange. She knew he must have heard them, but her response was as important as the answer.

"Mademoiselle Roussel sent a letter," Avril placed the letter on the table, backing up a little as Monsieur Larocque turned to face her. His face was cold, the deep methodical look that appeared whenever he was trying to understand or devise something. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, a discarded waistcoat on the back of the chair, the dark gold glinting in the limited light. "Probably a thank you for saving her..."

"I should have left her in that water or had Thomas take her home when I first saw her." He said harshly, snatching that letter from the desk and crumpling it up. "Now I have some stupid child writing me letters."

"She was pleasant and respectful when she was here..."

"Madame Loisel, I employ you to do the housework and prepare meals, not interject your ideas," he said cooly, tossing the letter into the waste can. Avril bristled a little, letting out a sigh as he returned to his perch on the window sill.

"Well this time, Monsieur Larocque, I'm going to say something. We've been here six years and there hasn't been a word between you and your neighbors. You wish to live here undisturbed, but if you keep ignoring them they will become curious and come calling if you like it or not." He turned to give her a sharp look, and Avril would nearly flinch. "I'll be on my way. I'm just saying though, Mademoiselle Roussel was polite, courteous, and even though she did ask a lot of questions, once Thomas told her you valued your privacy she was quick to silence herself and talk of other things. If anyone could be trusted to keep up the idea that you are among the noble class, if a bit allusive, then someone who owes you their life might be the person to fill the spot." He had turned to look back out the window, that crease in his forehead and Avril would just sigh. "I will bring your supper at the regular time. Call if you need anything Monsieur." The plump woman turned and took the door from the drawing room to the second story of that house, heading down to finish feeding the chickens.

* * *

><p><strong>Here you go! As I promised, I'll try to update twice a week or something over break, but I'll be busy. Anyway, hope you're enjoying. Thanks!<strong>

**-Celene**


	9. Part II:IV

_Part II: IV_

* * *

><p><em>Monsieur Larocque, <em>

_My apologizes for not writing sooner, but my ability to think clearly has only just returned. My absence scared my father and servants greatly, and they have not allowed me a moments rest since my return. These are childish excuses I know, but are truthful I assure. I am in debt to you sir, for your aid and courtesy. My recovery would not have have been as rapid without your assistance, and I fear I would still be bed ridden if you had not seen my fall. It was a consequence of my own childish actions, one I assure you won't happen again. Your kindness will not be forgotten, nor that of your people. Thomas and Avril were a wonderful help to me, and I owe them as much as I owe you. If there is anyway I could repay the debt, I will, though I know the debt is great. Thank you once again Monsieur Larocque. I hope my image has not been tainted by this embarrassing,_

_Zoé Roussel_

The crumpled paper laid spread out and smoothed somewhat on the table, though nothing could repair the crisp paper to what it had been before the Phantom crumpled it in anger. He sat in that window sill, his chateau set on a hill, concealed among the trees so only the locals really knew where it was. Still, although the trees enclosed it, he could still see the fields and meadows that stretched out around him, a view that could give him enough time to escape should anyone discover who Monsieur Larocque really was. For five years he had lived in peace, five years since his fire burnt down his home. The thought of that night sent ice through his veins, Don Juan, Christine exposing his face in front of the affluent of Paris, the chandelier, the stupid Vicomte. He had lived in his own personal exile for five years, all to be spoiled by some stupid girl and her startled horse.

His walk through the pergola, a product of his anger and frustration focused into another form of art, was ruined when he heard that soft voice and the whinny of a horse. He had caught the sight of the horse stumbling up the embankment, barely visible in the last rays of daylight, the candles from the house above had caught off his mask as he stepped under the canopy of ivy to not be seen. His curiosity was rewarded with a sharp gasp coming from the rider and he watched as that girl tumbled down the embankment, striking her head along the way before coming to a stop next to that creek. There was a small cry, almost unheard as her horse trampled off through the grove, and he watched her try to stand. The first time she tried to stand, she could only sit up before a wince sent her back to lay in the creek bed. Her skin paled from the wound on her head, and probably from the cold water. He knew he should have just left her there in the water, but as she pulled two bloody fingers away from her forehead and uttered a colorful arrangement of words, he knew she would not be able to leave that creek unaided.

His handkerchief was still stained with her blood where he had pressed it to that cut. She had been light, though her soaked cloths even made him cold as he carried her up to the house, placing her in Avril's room and telling them to take care of her. A salve from his days at the opera house, what he had used to treat his own wounds, was placed on her forehead and he had thought himself lucky she stayed unconscious through the ordeal. Now he was forced to acknowledge the never ending loop of favors and 'thank you's that accompanied acts of kindness. This girl seemed more reserved than the rest however; no tears or dramatics when she woke, no insistent she see who save her or any of those antics that useless people did. She just thanked Avril, answered questions asked of her, asked a few questions herself, but did as she was told. He had thought it was the end of it when she left his house, but now this thank you arrived and he was forced to evaluate his position.

Avril was right, five years of solitude had been shattered, now with his presence known and people evaluating the character of an unknown and unseen gentleman. He almost laughed at the idea, from an Opera Ghost to a gentleman was a big leap, but the game of manipulation was similar. Everyone could be controlled, but as the Opera Ghost he could keep his abilities and hand secret and terrifying, such activities would call unwanted attention now. The question was, how could this debt, as Mademoiselle Roussel called it, be utilized to the fullest extent? Her performance had exposed the fact that she was not as uneducated and flighty as those he used in the Opera Populaire, but there was still the possibility to find some way to use her.

He would walk to that drawing table, pushing the paints and oils away as he started to write a response. For all the creativity and ability to perform as he learned from the opera house, creating a new character was difficult. Pen gave way to elegant script and his usual tone when he wrote as the Opera Ghost. Thomas had noted that she felt his manners cold and detached, and so he would continue to fulfill her idea of him. There was no warmth or inclination for contact, but rather the coolness he brought to everything. Signing as Monsieur Larocque, he sealed the letter with that crimson wax. His skull seal had to be discarded, it was too recognizable. A rose with a ribbon tied around the stem adorned the wax and he sent it out with Avril when she arrived with his dinner. Thomas was to deliver it the next day, the boy had been incessant about visiting some girl at that house. It would be good to get him out for a few hours. Barely touching his food, he would retreat to the third tier of that tower, his organ and bed residing there. The house would be filled with music for the rest of the evening, it was the only way he could think and plan how he could maintain his solitude without drawing attention.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

"I'm glad you have recovered well, but really Zoé, you should let my physician look at your forehead. It looks painful." Zoé was sitting on the stone bench in the middle of the gardens behind her home. The elm tree let small rays of light down to the ground around her, the bench she was on wrapped around the thick trunk. Shrubbery encased small plots of flowers, weaving a path from her drawing room on the first floor, all around the back of the house. It was peaceful, with benches and gazebos here and there, but the large elm at the center was surrounded by a soft green lawn. Zoé had spent most of her time out here, the fresh air giving her some relief from her headaches, and after a week the only sign of her accident was the red cut on her forehead, right above her eye. Smoothing out the wrinkles on her light blue skirt, she turned to watch as Luc d'Allemagne came around the side of the elm, having inspected a flower bed and producing an orange chrysanthemum bloom for Zoé.

"My father's physician has already looked at it, I assure you it is healing just fine," Zoé took the bloom from his hand. "Thank you for your concern though."

"You still haven't told me why you were out riding so late," he took a seat next to her, his tan jacket blending into the bark of the tree. "You were always the cautious one."

"I was still restless from traveling to Paris. I thought a good ride would calm my nerves, and I didn't think I would come across that woods," she picked a few petals from the flower, dropping them onto the emerald grass. "The pheasant wasn't expected either."

"Then we should just count our blessings that a bump was the only wound you suffered," he chuckled, those blue eyes searching her own as he smile. She pulled her eyes back to the flower, cupping the rest of the bloom in her hands.

"Yes, well I think asking Sebastien to collect some pheasant for dinner would be a good end to the ordeal as well," she chuckled.

"So vengeful, I am glad I am not the bird," d'Allemagne laughed. "If it was you, I don't think my horse would have spooked. She has seen you enough to not be so frightened."

"If I had been there, you're right, this would never have happened," Luc would brush a strand of that midnight hair from Zoé's face, tucking it behind her ear. "Promise me you will not do such a silly thing again."

"I do not make promises I cannot hope to keep Luc," Zoé chuckled. "So I will promise not to hurt myself so bad again, and that is the best I could do." Luc could only chuckle, pulling back and leaning against the trunk of the tree, running a hand through his short dirty blonde hair. "Ah Zoé, what ever will we do with you," he laughed.

"Leave me to my devices and hope for the best. That is what I hope at least," she smirked, standing to move from the garden and back to the house. Luc had come to call on her, first a few days after the accident, but Zoé could barely walk around the house without feeling dizzy. The excuse could not hold the same weight a week after the incident, so she was forced to entertain Luc as he checked on her health. He had come when Hugo called for him, the night she had gone missing, and aided in the search party for her. Upon her return, he had been assure of her well-being by both Hugo, Nadine and finally the family's doctor. Now he was back for his own inspection, and after a few hours of his presence, Zoé still could not find a reason for him to leave that would not be blatantly insulting.

"I don't mean to press you Zoé, but our old friends keep asking me if you are attending my little party next month," Luc stood, following her as she walked through the garden.

"Knowing you Luc, this will be no small party. I had meant to write you the night of my accident, but I did mean to accept your invitation," the words were heavy on her tongue, and she could feel his smile, even though he was behind her.

"They will be in shock."

"Yes well, I do not know if I'll be able to bring a guest."

"What about your father?" Zoé stopped, running her hand over the prickly shrub, trimmed to border another flower bed.

"He is still not feeling well. I fear he doesn't have the strength to endure parties anymore," Zoé said, turning to face him.

"Ah, well... you do not need to bring a guest." Luc smiled, taking her hand and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles, "Your presence is more important." Zoé would just smile before pulling her hand back and continuing her walk through the gardens, heading back to the house. Her stomach was twisted in knots, but she would say nothing as Luc droned on about business and friends he had seen in his last trip to Tours. Zoé would nod and respond so not to be rude, but her thoughts were a thousand miles away, anywhere but there.

Stepping into the drawing room, Luc was talking about the latest events in Paris, carnivals, weddings and parties, oblivious to Hugo approaching from the foyer, a black bordered paper in his hand. Zoé stepped away from Luc, approaching Hugo curiously. "I thought all the mail had arrived today Hugo."

"As had I, but a rider just arrived with this, I believe it was the young man who brought you home last week," Hugo passed the letter to Zoé, who looked at it closely, her name printed on the front.

"Thomas? Bring him in and give him drink and let him rest before he goes back," Zoé said, earning a nod from Hugo as he left. Luc approached, moving to pull the letter from Zoé's hand, only to have her place the letter out of reach.

"Who is it?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"Oh, I sent Monsieur Larocque a thank you yesterday, this must be his reply. Formalities probably, I'll read it later," Zoé would place the letter on her desk before continuing through the house. "You must be housing many guests for your party."

"Um... yes, yes a few will be arriving. A few are coming quiet early. I'm letting them stay so they could do business in Orléans and not have to stay at some strange house," Luc explained, being pulled from the desk to join Zoé. "One of my school friends will be arriving tomorrow."

"Oh, then you must have his quarters all prepared then?"

"Well... no, the servants were to be taking care of that." The two passed to that entry way. The sun was starting to descend and Zoé would just click her tongue.

"I wouldn't leave such things unattended... not if it was my friend. I would have made sure to have my house in perfect order before I had company stay." That crease formed on Luc's forehead and Zoé knew she had won. He began to fidget and would nod.

"Yes, well... I will be reviewing their work when I return..."

"Then you should go, just in case they missed a detail and you have to take care of it. I wouldn't want your guests to be lacking if they arrive," Zoé smiled, giving him a small peck on the cheek as was their customary good-bye. "I would not want to be blamed for your guest being with want when they arrived." Luc gave her a cool look, knowing her trick, and knowing she was right.

"I will take your advice and leave then," he took her hand and kissed her knuckles again. "I am glad you will be attending my ball Zoé. It has been a long while since you were able to relax, so I hear, and I feel this will be a good break for you."

"Ever concerned about my person. You shall make your ladies jealous, Monsieur. Now go, so I am in no fault." Zoé smiled as he left, going to the stable to retrieve his horse and she would wave good-bye as he rode off. The smile grew as she embraced her victory, going to the kitchen were the rest of her servants had gathered.


	10. Part II: V

_Part II: V_

Thomas had left just before Luc, claiming that he was needed back at the chateau to help his grandfather. He was coaxed to take a biscuit after having a glass of water, Thérèse a flutter about being able to convince him. Zoé would only ask them to bring tea to her study, withdrawing and returning to that letter.

Resting where she had placed it, the cream colored paper had a midnight black border. The script on the front was long, detailed, and elegant, almost dripping with pride and confidence. Zoé could only smirk, as she broke the blood red wax seal, unfolding the paper and smoothing it out to read.

_Mademoiselle Roussel,_

_ Although your letter was surely heartfelt and a demonstration of your gratitude, it was not needed. Should I have chosen to neglect someone wounded on my lands, the ramifications of the act would have followed me and I would never have forgotten it. Your assessment is valid however, it was quiet childish. However, I will not ask you about your motives for your midnight ride. Privacy is a sacred concept to me, and I will not intrude upon yours, and if you could return the kindness, it would be a beginning to paying back your debt._

_ I had not thought of how you could pay the full sum of what is owed, and will have to think on it further. I will call should any opportunity arise. I hope our next meeting with not be under such painful conditions._

_ Signed_

_ Monsieur Larocque_

Zoé smirked, the ego of Monsieur Larocque dripped off the letter like a syrup, thick and heavy, overpowering at times. She sensed no falsehood, though an over compensation and arrogance may have caused the words to be read harsher than thought. It could have been worse, the letter was not a condemnation and not as chastising and patronizing as it could have been. Still, Zoé dropped the thing on her desk, thinking it would hit with a thick plop. The character of the man, her rescuer, was emerging, and if she was honest with herself, it was interesting. Most men would have adhered to the ideas of society, the valiant hero who saved a damsel in distress. She would expect the refusal of any debt on her part, the gentleman would have claimed it was some duty of his to protect and save her. Instead, she received a note, agreeing with her earlier assumption that her accident was the result of a childish tantrum, and had he not acted, the societal repercussions would have been too much for anyone to withstand. No assumptions as to the reasons for the ride were made, no inquiries at all; Thomas had been true in the fact that Monsieur Larocque valued his privacy and extended that value to others. There was a hint of curiosity too, and Zoé was glad he at least accepted the notion that she could repay his actions.

Standing from the desk, she moved off to the kitchen, knowing dinner would be prepared. Deep in thought, she gave a few comments to the servants, smiling at Thérèse, who was still excited about seeing Thomas. She collected two plates of roasted duck and vegetables, carrying it herself up to her father's room to dine with him. The rest of the evening was quiet and peaceful, and although Monsieur Roussel inquired about Luc, he did not push the subject with his daughter. When she finally returned to her room, Zoé would slip under her sheets, curling up to dream of the cold night, the giant elm and a pair of strong arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey all! Hope everyone is having a great winter season! Sorry this is so short, but hey, the next few bits should be pretty long. I'm about halfway through Part III, I think... but kinda hit a block. Hopefully I can work through it before the end of Part II, but we'll see. Just giving everyone a heads up. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy<strong>

-Celene


	11. Part II: VI

_Part II: VI_

Convincing Hugo to let her ride again was like pulling teeth, and when he informed her father she wanted to ride again, Zoé nearly lost her composure. Her work was caught up, the debts paid off as much as she could, only after another few months would she have more money to pay off the rest of the lofty debts. She was getting restless, and walks in the garden could only calm her so much. After a few days of long walks to the border of their lands, her father finally gave into her wishes, and Zoé now sat astride that jumpy mare, making a circle of her land. A pass around the lake was all Hugo wanted her to do, but it wasn't enough when she got out there. Now after traveling few hundred kilometers more, Zoé was at the edge of that forest that separated her land from Monsieur Larocque's. Beech trees lined the border, and she rode along side the tree line, peering into the wooded area. She was trying to remember the path she took to get to that creek, but the details of the night were still fuzzy.

Dismounting from her horse, Zoé wanted to walk through that woods without the worry of falling again. She tethered her horse to a low branch before starting into the woods. Birds were chirping in the shaded landscape, leaves coating the ground and crunching under Zoé's riding boots. She pulled her tan shaw tighter around her, another autumn wind whipping through the trees and chilling her. The sounds of squirrels and other animals were all around her, and the walk was peaceful, the trees seeming to take all the tension and worry out of Zoé, calming her even though the cool temperature made her shiver. The sounds of fast footfalls caught her attention however, and Zoé scanned the woods for the image of someone running.

Instead of a person, she saw a dog, a lean creature, almost like a twig. It's ears drooped, covered with long silky fur, and it's tail caught in the breeze had the same feathered like feature. The black and tan dog came up to her thighs in height, but couldn't have weighted hardly anything. At the sight of her it came to a stop, halting it's chase, the echos of some other animal finding safety came and went, though the source was never seen. Zoé would take a knee, holding her hand out to the dog, not knowing who it belonged to, the only sign that it even had an owner was the black collar around it's neck. The dog approached cautiously, but then would turn at a sound, the ears picking up as a voice echoed through the woods.

"Daroga!" the voice seemed to resonate all around her, a deep and commanding voice that shook her to the bone, but made the dog turn to the north and start to walk off. Zoé rose to her feet, watching the dog for a moment. The voice called again. Curious combined with a small amount of bravery and Zoé disregarded caution, following the dog. The dog would pick up it's pace, moving from a trot to a run, sprinting into the underbrush. Zoé would race after it, though giving up when she lost sight of the dog a few yards later. Coming to a halt she panted, leaning against a tree as she looked behind her, the light from the meadow barely visible. To go any further, she risked getting lost. Her freedom was too much to risk it again. If another search party had to be sent out, she knew her father would barely let her out of the house, let alone out to ride again.

"Mademoiselle Roussel," the voice rang all around her, drowning out the sound of crunching leaves, her first step back towards the meadow. She turned back around, looking for the owner of the voice, not frightened, but surprised at the proximity.

"Monsieur Larocque?" she asked.

"This is my land, Mademoiselle. I wonder why you are on it," the voice was behind her, and she turned to face the owner. He was sitting on a fallen log, just in front of her and to the left. The log was still propped up on the shattered stump, and the left side of his face was to her. The black and tan dog was lying at his feet, watching her as he did the same, those light blue eyes trained on her.

"I was riding again, but wished to enter the woods. So, to avoid falling again, I left my horse on the meadow and only ventured in a few yards," Zoé explained, sizing him up. Jet black hair was slick against his head, his skin fair as if he had not been outside for a very long time. Wearing a black coat, she could see the edges of a black vest over a crisp white shirt. Black pants were only broken by black riding boots. Leather gloves covered his hand, and lying near the dog was a brace of rabbits. "I am sorry that I seemed to have spoiled your hunt."

"Something always seems to goes amiss when you enter these woods Mademoiselle, I would suggest you keep your distance so you are not hurt again." As cold as his letter, Zoé shifted a bit from foot to foot, was that a threat?

"Monsieur, although your concern is moving, I think I can take care of myself," her tone was a bit sharper than she intended, but Zoé was used to being chastised by only her father, not some man sitting nonchalant on a log.

"As you did when your horse threw you?"

"That has never happened before and any horse would buck if a pheasant appeared out of a bush and flew in front of it's muzzle," she shot, only earning a laugh from Larocque.

"And the childish antics continue. You were very astute in your letter, claiming your midnight ride was a childish endeavor, but it seems like many of your endeavors have a childish result," that comment earned him a cold look from Zoé, those green eyes as hard as stone.

"The patronizing aspect of your personality is as clear now as it was in your letter." He would chuckle before rising from the log, the dog standing as well.

"Go home Zoé, your father will be looking for you." As soon as his back was turned however, there was a sharp pain between his shoulder blades, followed by a _plunk_. The rock would roll a few inches away, crushed under his heel as he turned to face a fuming Zoé.

"You have no right to speak to me like that!" she snapped angrily. "I admitted my mistake and have done nothing of the sort since. I apologized and offered my assistance in compensation, and you treat me like a child. Never speak to me like that again." If looks could kill, Zoé was certain she would have been fatally wounded. A rage boiled behind that blue eye, but it seemed to cool some.

"As you wish, Mademoiselle Roussel. Still, the sun is falling and you need to return to your home," there was no time to respond as he turned to walk towards his land, the wisp of a dog following him. Zoé watched him go, her shoulders drooping and she suddenly felt exhausted. The banter between herself and Luc never left her tired, but then again the exchanges were nearly scripted, this one felt like a small battle. She had to prove her worth, and it was only until she threw the rock that she realized that she had lost. He had not called her out on it however, only dismissing her in a gentler tone, which made her feel even worse. Frustrated and exhausted, Zoé turned back to where her horse was tethered.

* * *

><p>Sorry for the late update. My life turned from mediocre to hell in the span of a few hours so I've been busy and a wreck for the past few days, on top of holiday stuff. Sorry all. I hope you are all having a good winter time. I'll try to get another few posts up before I go back to school as well as focusing on the next part. Thanks for reading, and till next time!<p>

**Celene**


	12. Part II: VII

_Part II: VII_

Although her actions made her feel belittled, Zoé found herself returning to those woods often. The woods themselves were peaceful, and even that exchange seemed less and less infuriating. As she thought on it, Zoé had to admit that she had been acting like a child, arguing whenever he contradicted her, throwing a rock, and becoming so angry so quickly. She always pouted and argued when she did not get her way, and although his tone was insulting, he was right. She would often ride to the edge of that forest, tethering her horse just inside the tree line, and then would move through the towering trees to find an knotted oak to sit under. Most of it's leaves had fallen, but the tangle of roots caught them into soft beds that Zoé found herself sitting in. Most of the time she came she would read, other times she would draw, but none of her visits resulted in seeing that dog or it's owner again.

This particular day, a piece of paper was stretched over her lap, a wooden panel behind it, giving her a surface to sketch on. Her model was a tree, an old wilted one, with branches so heavy that they seemed to droop and mask the lowest part of the canopy overhead. Singing softly to herself as she worked, the charcoal stained her fingertips. Luckily her riding dress was a molted grey, simple, and not expensive at all, making the small black marks around her knees less bothersome.

"A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray..."

"What are you singing?" the voice stopped her in her tracks. The charcoal streaked through the top corner of her page, turning the branch into a lightning bolt that seemed to strike the tree down.

"It... it's a meadow lullaby. One of my servants was singing it one day and... I guess I just remembered it," Zoé explained, looking to see Monsieur Larocque sitting to her right.

"You have a terrible singing voice," he smirked, a book in his hands, as if he had been reading while she worked. Zoé just chuckled, looking back at her sketch.

"I know. Had I known you were close by, I would have stayed silent and spared you the pain," her fingers were busy with that mistake, blending the mark into the paper and she tried to create a hazy sky line to mask the thunderbolt, but it was too dark and too strong of a stroke for her to mask. Zoé just sighed, opening a small latch on the wooden plank that exposed a hidden compartment. Folding up the piece of paper, Zoé went to place it into the compartment, only to feel a hand touch her own. He had moved silently closer, catching her hand before it had the chance to hide the ruined piece of work.

"Let me see."

"Monsieur, it's as bad as my singing. Having already damaged your ears, I don't wish to make the mistake with your eyes," she pulled her hand out of his. He would not budge however, his fingers wrapping around that paper.

"Let me see." It was a command now, not a request as the former had been. Zoé's eyes narrowed, but as they faced off, she noticed something that hadn't caught her attention before. On the right side of his face, from hair line down to his lower cheek sat a white porcelain mask. Something in the back of Zoé's mind was trying to tell her something, but the connections weren't strong enough for her to realize the significance. Her grip on the paper would loosen, and Monsieur Larocque leaned back against the tree as he looked over the sketch. Pulling another piece of paper from that compartment, Zoé bent over that wooden plank to try and hide her confusion. Why wear a mask? She already saw half of his face, so he wasn't protecting his identity. Biting the inside of her cheek, her fingers danced over the paper without even considering what she was doing. Her mind was racing as fast as her hand was going, the charcoal dancing to give the illusion that she was focusing on something besides his face.

"Not as terrible as the singing, but still not good," he said simply, tucking the paper under on of the exposed corners of her new piece of paper, and he leaned curiously over her shoulder to see what she was doing now. His voice brought her back to the present, and she looked down at her paper, it was the lake and meadow behind her house, the chateau in the background, with a perspective as if one was looking out from the edge of the woods. "Now that is better..."

"Your mask..." Zoé shook her head, biting her lip as she stuffed the 'terrible' drawing into that compartment. "Never mind..." she felt him shift away from her. She heard him stand, and sighed. "Monsieur..."

"Mademoiselle Roussel, is it safe to assume that I saved your life two weeks ago?" he asked in that cool voice. Zoé turned her gaze to look up at him, putting her drawing board to the side.

"Monsieur..."

"Answer the question," he cut her off quickly, looking down at her, both his eyes boring into her and Zoé would scoot back some, bracing herself on a root to help her stand.

"Yes Monsieur," she said quietly.

"And you've claim to owe me in return yes?" he watched her closely as she stood, and Zoé would just nod. He closed the distance, getting mere inches from Zoé. She casted her gaze to the ground, only to feel two fingers curl under her chin and gently raise her gaze to look at him. Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a step back, stumbling on a root. She would have fallen if he hadn't caught her arm with his free hand, keeping her upright. Zoé was forced to look up at him, and Monsieur Larocque now had an amused look on his face. "If you want to start repaying your debt, you can begin by not asking me about my mask. As I told you Zoé, I value my privacy." He let her go, and Zoé stumbled back a bit, though continuing to keep her balance. She straightened her skirt out before looking at him, that amused look still painted over his half concealed face.

"Do we have an understanding, Zoé?" he asked. Zoé was still swimming in the scent of sandalwood and resin, but she would be able to focus enough to look back at him.

"Under one condition," she said, earning a hateful look from him. He raised a gloved hand, only to be beat by Zoé. "Monsieur, you want me to keep quiet about your mask... and I assume you don't want me to speak of it either?" the look in his eyes answered her enough. She would nod, not smiling or seeming to take any pride in the fact that she had him cornered. "I promise I won't, if you tell me your name."

"You are the one indebt to me! You have no right to make demands," he hissed angrily.

"This is a favor. If you are to be so informal with me, then I will be informal with you," she responded calmly. "I honor my word Monsieur, and all I wish is a name. Something that small cannot be so terrible." He was livid, but Zoé remained calm, his own childish temper acting out across his face, his fists clenching and relaxing before those broad shoulders dropped.

"Erik, it is Erik," he nearly spat the name at her before he extended a gloved hand. "You have your answer, now I think it is time for you to leave my woods." Zoé would nod, bending down to pick up her drawing materials.

"As you wish, Monsieur Larocque," she did not want to sting him with his own name. She gave him a wide berth as she moved south to where she entered, and even though he was out of sight, Zoé swore she could feel his eyes boring into her neck.

XxXxXxXx

The next few days were cold, both in the fact that Zoé could only return to her favorite tree twice, and both times could only stay for a short time before the frigid wind caused her to shake, and the fact that she did not hear nor see a sign of Monsieur Larocque in her visits. Although blaming the frigid weather could be enough, she doubt it was for that reason alone that he refused to enter the woods. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, and Zoé did not expect to have any more company on her daily travels.

That acceptance caused Zoé to gasp in alarm as the black and tan dog she had seen nearly a week earlier bounded over to her. Coming to a stop a few feet away, it cautiously approached Zoé who was sitting on one of the exposed roots, her legs tucked to the side as she read. Putting her book down, she held out a hand to the dog, who approached, sniffing heavily. It's silky hair danced over her palm, and soon it was close enough for her to pet. He was a lean dog, like a running hound, but not as large. After a few pets on that narrow head, the dog came closer, promptly sitting in front of Zoé and allowing her to pet him. She smiled, but the sound of crunching leaves made both look up, watching Monsieur Larocque approach. Concealing a small smile, Zoé looked back down at the dog, running her hand over the dog's barrel chest, "Your dog is beautiful."

He didn't respond, moving to stand a few meters away, leaning against a young leafless tree. Zoé glanced up at him, then back down to the dog, trying to come up with something to talk about. His eyes were still sharp on her, but she was doing her best to ignore it. "I've never seen a dog like this... what is it?"

"A saluki," he answered briefly, causing Zoé to look up at him curiously. He sighed, "It is a dog breed that originates in Persia. A friend of mine brought him to France as a gift for me."

"His name is Daroga?" Zoé asked, the dog's hanging ears perked at the name, and she laughed gently, petting the dog under it's chin. "Glad he knows his own name."

"I wouldn't take him hunting if he didn't," Monsieur Larocque moved a bit closer, coming to sit across from her on another exposed root.

"Do you hunt in these woods a lot Monsieur?" she wanted to keep the conversation going, on him, and on a neutral topic that he seemed okay with. He looked up at her, almost confusion, was it because she wasn't using his first name? Zoé could only speculate as he answered.

"Yes, but he does better on open terrain. The rabbits have thinned out in my gardens and these woods, so there is not a lot to hunt."

"You could use my lands if you wish," Zoé offered gently. "I know Sebastien has been wanting me to get a terrier or something to hunt the rabbits in our garden, but I cannot do with those small dogs. Nor can I get someone to train a dog to hunt rabbits anyway. This way, you get your sport and my grounds keeper will have an easier time with the garden." She looked up from the dog, watching a crease form in his forehead, but it would ease somewhat when he realized she was watching him.

"I will... consider it," he said cautiously, and Zoé would just nod with a smile. It was a small victory, and she would not press the issue any farther. The peace in that woods would fall back over the woods, the dog leaning comfortably against Zoé, and the two talking about hunting, which Zoé knew very little about. The rest of the week consisted of walks and talking, Daroga rushing ahead of them as the two would talk about politics, literature, art, music, especially music. She did her best to keep away from anything that may upset him, and if she said something that did upset him, she did her best to redirect to a better topic.


	13. Part II: VIII

_Part II: VIII_

"Monsieur Larocque, I find myself in the difficult position of having to ask you for help," Zoé bit her lip, their walk coming to a sudden stop under an elm.

"You do realize that you already have a substantial debt, Mademoiselle Roussel?" his voice was chilled, and she knew it was just an extra measure. He had been using her first name so freely that it was a sure sign of his discomfort when he referred to her by her last name. The sky was an ashy, pale grey above them, revealed now that the trees had mostly lost their leaves, and the wind had died enough to make the sound of crunching leaves the only noise in the woods.

"The fact that you are always reminding me prevents me from forgetting that fact, Monsieur," she returned cooly. "If I had another option I would take it, but I find myself lacking, and so I ask you." Their walk would continue, more slowly though, that cold piece of porcelain facing her seeming to talk of it's own accord, forgetting that it was part man as well.

"What is it then?"

"I have been invited to a masquerade by a gentleman who does not understand that I wish to be left alone," she sighed, the tension seemed to grow thicker between them, but Zoé would continue, knowing there was no better way to explain her situation. "I know he expects me to arrive unaccompanied and will not leave me be from the moment I step foot in his house, till the moment I leave. I also cannot simply skip the event, nor can I be rude and only arrive for a minute before departing. All I wish is for you to accompany me, so I may arrive and keep my father's respect from faltering even more because of my stubbornness, and then I may depart earlier then if I arrived unaccompanied."

"You wish to use me as a puppet to get away from a boy?" he asked, and Zoé heard bitter anger dripping from every word that left his lips.

"No, I wish to have some useful company at an otherwise boring and painful event," she responded in a second. "I do not use people."

"You have servants."

"As do you."

"But I have not made the assertion that I do not use people, you have," he snapped. "I cannot imagine a rich masquerade being boring or painful for someone of your class, and I will not attend with you."

"Do not presume you know me, Monsieur," Zoé snapped right back. "You are as well off as I and I do not presume about your social life, so do not presume about mine."

"I have seen enough gatherings of your class to know how women act at them, I will not go," he growled.

"You think I act like one of those women?" Zoé stopped in her tracks, glaring at his back as he paused a foot ahead. "That I waltz around drinking, dancing with any man I see and sneaking off into abandoned hallways? The impropriety of my counterparts does not extend to me and how dare you assume so. I asked you so I may have a chance to avoid the frivolous gossip and antics of others there, and actually have some civil company. If you are not up to it, then I guess I will go unaccompanied then."

"The shame at the idea you shall have a handsome son of Paris for a companion," the sarcasm was an attempt to rile her, and Zoé almost lost it, only saved by a shaky exhale.

"You do not know the kind of man that you leave me to, but then again it seems as though you do not care. Very well Monsieur, thank you for your brief consideration." Zoé would turn, taking a few steps south before she felt two strong hands grasp her upper arm.

"Monsieur..."

"Who is he?" Zoé went to pull out of his grasp, but with no success. A good foot taller than her, and had no problem keeping her still, pulled back against his chest.

"Monsieur Larocque..."

"Tell me," he cut her off and Zoé pulled again, feeling those hands release her. She turned to face him, a narrow look on her face, but those blue eyes were like ice to her.

"Luc d'Allemagne, you would not know him because he was only in Paris as a student and apprentice for his father's business. His family is from Orléans. I met him at one of my first public parties and the only reason he finds interest in me is because I did not wilt like a school girl to his looks and charm. The boy is a hunter like his father, but unlike his father his game does not have antlers and lives in the chateaus of the wealthy men of Paris instead of a forest," Zoé explained. "His fellows from Orléans and Tours will visiting and he intents to throw them a party, I imagine it will be another great hunt for them." Her voice was chilled and she refused to be intimidated by the cold look being given to her. "I will now be leaving Monsieur, do not stop me this time."

"Zoé," he called as she turned and took another step. She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "I'll accompany you, we leave when I say and stay not a moment longer."

"Thank you," the edge of her smile was visible over her shoulder, and she would nod in appreciation, but still she would walk off, returning to her horse and home, leaving the woods as silent as she found it.


	14. Part II: IX

_Part II: IX_

Zoé was fretting, and she was angry with herself because she never worried. She was always sure of what to expect and was prepared for most problems that could arise. That was probably the source of why she was worrying now; for one of the few times in her life, she couldn't assume what was going to happen, or what would not happen. Zoé couldn't prepare herself for problems, and she was petrified about what may happen at Luc d'Allemagne's gathering.

"For being a brash woman, it is quite amusing to see you pale every moment we draw closer to this gathering," a chuckled came from across that coach and Zoé would return the comment with a glare. "Ah, there she is."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself Monsieur, maybe we shouldn't go to the party and instead turn around."

"Oh? Then I'll just have Thomas drive around the estate and elicit the same response," Larocque had a smirk across his face, and would laugh at Zoé's pained look.

"Perchance I faint..."

"I'll make sure Monsieur d'Allemagne takes good care of you." The look of horror made him laugh even harder and Zoé swatted at his knee.

"You are a terrible guest," she snapped, the dirt road turning to gravel as the looming chateau, cast in gold from the many lights and braziers lit around it.

"And yet you invited me," he gestured, "and I obliged. You have seemed to brought this misery upon yourself Mademoiselle."

Zoé sighed, leaning back and picking at the fabric of her mask, "It seems so."

Luc didn't disappoint when he held social events, and this event was no exception. There was a band playing all the dancing favorites, resulting in the wooden floor to be covered with dancing couples, laughing and enjoying the festivities. There were tables lining the large ballroom, covered in expensive silks and foods from all parts of the world, though the major theme of the ball seemed to be golds and oranges, the tables and servants all wearing similar adornments. Zoé felt her stomach knot again, entering that ballroom felt as if she was entering a lion's den. Luckily, the music and delights that Luc had arranged kept the majority of the crowd occupied and she was able to disappear without any of her childhood friends seeing her.

"And the brash woman is yet again replaced by a scared girl," Zoé would restrain herself from saying anything harsh, just turning to look at her companion with a cold gaze.

"Will you stop?"

"Mademoiselle, you told me to enjoy myself, and after your antics in my forest..."

"So this is about be asking for your name..."

"Maybe..."

"Zoé! My god, I saw the acceptance letter, but didn't think you'd actually arrive." Zoé turned, her emerald green dress swirled about her. That dress was simple, a deep emerald green brought out her eyes. From her corset down to the skirt, a dark emerald green fabric was decorated with silver needlework of leaves and floral patterns. The rich dark and silver designs were reflected in her mask, secured with a black ribbon, and a few silver bracelets and a silver necklace were all the jewelry that she would wear. Monsieur Larocque was wearing a a very well put together suit, a white shirt with a forest colored waistcoat, a black cravat and a black coat, nothing extravagant like some of the men's costumes, but he still stood out. His porcelain mask had been replaced with a simple black one, stretching over both of his eyes and down well past his cheek bones, almost to his jaws.

A forced smile creased over Zoé's face as she embraced the thin woman who came running over to her, "Anna, I didn't expect you to come..."

"Luc told all of us that you had sent your acceptance of his invitation and we nearly died of shock," the blonde laughed, kissing Zoé's cheek. "Come! Some of the other girls are here, they're dying to see you after so long."

"It's only been a year..."

"A lot has happened in a year!" Anna laughed, "Christine is soon to have her first child, Jocelyne is moved to Marseille with her husband last year, and look!" the excited blonde practically shoved her hand into Zoé's face to show the large ring adorning her finger.

"Wow... Anna... congratulations," Zoé said timidly, backing up a little as the blonde would continue to recount her whole engagement. Zoé would turn to look at Monsieur Larocque, who looked as uncomfortable as she was at this point, but as she turned back to Anna, she heard a laugh to her right, feeling a hand on her bare shoulder.

"Anna, you're excitement is a little too much for Zoé," a familiar voice laughed. And Zoé would tense a little as he came to stand next to her.

"No it's not! I'm just trying to fill her in on everything that she's missed. She's been a recluse ever since she moved from Paris, we are lucky to see her once a year," Anna chuckled. "What can you be doing in the country? It's so boring..." That's when the blonde's gaze looked over to Larocque, who was standing just a little behind and to the side of Zoé. "Who's your friend?" The hand left her shoulder, and Zoé would turn, looking at all three, Anna, Monsieur Larocque and Luc, the circle breaking as Luc and Larocque separated themselves a bit.

"This is Monsieur Larocque, Monsieur, this is Anna, an old friend from Paris, and Luc d'Allemagne, this is his party..."

"Larocque... why does that name sound familiar?" Luc said, outstretching a hand to shake his.

"He is the one who helped me after I fell off my horse."

"Zoé! My goodness are you alright?" Anna moved quickly, fluttering over her, and with a sigh, Zoé waved her off.

"I'm fine, really," she assured Anna.

"Then it seems as if we owe you a debt of gratitude," Luc smiled politely at Monsieur Larocque, who would just nod.

"It was no trouble." Luc nodded before turning back to Zoé, who had finally calmed Anna down enough to look at ease, the blonde having rushed off to find their other school friends.

"I'm glad you came Zoé. How are you enjoying yourself?"

"Nicely, even with Anna's energetic display," Zoé smiled. Luc removed his golden mask, that waistcoat shimmering in the light of the room, making him look as if he was touched by King Midas himself.

"Would you join me for a dance?" he held out his hand, and Zoé looked over at Larocque.

"I don't think it would be proper to leave my guest..."

"Oh, he surely doesn't mind, do you Monsieur?" Luc asked, turning back to look at Monsieur Larocque, who would shake his head.

"If the lady wishes to, then by all means," Zoé flashed him a deadly look before Luc turned back around. She looked up at him with a small smile, and would take his hand. In a minute she was pulled onto the dance floor, his hand in hers and the other coming to rest on her waist as they moved into the dance. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he pulled her close, his blue eyes trained onto her.

"You know you didn't have to bring a guest..."

"I know, but I wished to repay him for his kindness," Zoé smiled, as they drifted on the dance floor. "You're upset?"

"No, disappointed," he chuckled. "I didn't want to have to share you tonight."

"Had I known I was already claimed as a companion then I would have thought this through," she returned a bit icily. "Though I thought I was free to pick who's company I was to be in."

"We don't have to play this game Zoé," Luc smiled.

"What game?"

"Your indifference, the little jousts of wit we play at, and now this? I don't know how you convinced him to escort you, but that was a mean use of him just to get me jealous."

"I did not use Monsieur Larocque to make you jealous. I wished to bring a friend, and that is all that happened. Why do you think I'm playing a game with you?"

"Everyone knows about us..."

"There is no us, Luc, there is only you and I, and that's how it will stay," Zoé said sharply, pulling away from him, only to have his grip remain solid. "Luc, let me go."

"Zoé, you have to know how I feel..."

"I do Luc, and this isn't a game. I am not playing with you," Zoé said firmly.

"You only say that because you have a guest..."

"No, I say it because it's true," she hissed, keeping her voice down as Luc finally came to a stop, they were near the edge of the dance floor, and his comment was stopped by a servant tapping on his shoulder.

"What is it?" he hissed, those eyes ice cold, having been giving her that calculating look the entire time they were dancing, but now the facade was broken and his distress was evident. Whatever the servant said, Luc finally let go of Zoé's waist, nodding to the servant before turning back to her. "Stay here. We'll continue this when I return." As he walked off with his servant, Zoé would turn, her face flushed and she was trembling a little. Grasping a glass of champagne, she would move out to the opened balcony, a few couples hiding in dark corners, but she didn't care. Downing the champagne she would pull her mask off, placing it on the marble railing as she took a few calming breaths.

"Winded from dancing?" the smooth and deep voice made her turn her head to see Monsieur Larocque standing next to her.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Show up silently and melt away in crowds?" she asked before turning back to look over the rolling hills of Luc's land.

"I learned in my younger years and the skill continues to be of value," he smiled. Zoé just sighed, running a hand through her hair before straightening up a bit.

"We need to go."

"So soon? And I thought you were starting to enjoy his company," those dark blue eyes met her green ones, and seemed to falter a little.

"Monsieur Larocque please, can we leave this place?" Zoé was trying not to sound like a scared child, but it was a difficult task. Luc's temper had arose, and she wanted to leave before he could continue their conversation. A simple nod came from him and Zoé would sigh, "Thank you Erik..."

"I'm glad you could made it Vicomte, I know the journey from Paris is a long one."

"It was not so tiring Luc, though it is amusing that you lost your, dove was it?" a gentle voice laughed.

"Ah, yes. Well Raoul, not all of us can be so fortunate..."


	15. Part II: X

Part II: XI

Zoé could barely remember what happened after Luc and the Vicomte walked out onto the balcony. She moved, that was for certain, and the smell of sandalwood and resin engulfed her. There was some comment made about unrestrained lovers, and Zoé looked up to see stone cold blue eyes staring at her. There was a rage behind them, barely restrained, and that gaze would be broken as he turned to look over his shoulder, the sound of footsteps echoing off that marble floor as the two gentlemen returned to the main room. After that, Zoé didn't remember moving through the crowd, and leaving that party, or even the carriage ride home. That was why she was quick the next day to return to that woods, completely silent except for the sound of wind through the leaves.

She walked, moving through one of the many paths that they took, not indicated by any landmark, but more of a mental repetition. Going through the woods, she was silent, her coat drawn around her as the wind whipped through the trees, sending a rain of leaves around her. In an hour of walking, she would finally return to that knotted oak tree, sitting upon an exposed root. Zoé picked up a leaf and started to tear it, a nervous tick as she waited, trying to sort through what had happened. Who was she kidding, she knew what it was about. She had been in and out of Paris enough, hearing names and rumors... she let the bits of leaf fall to the ground. That familiar tune came to her, and gathering another leaf in her hand.

"And when again it's morning, the sun will rise..." she breathed, the bits of amber colored leaves falling into a pile beneath her.

"Leave." The voice was a rasp, but an order none the less. The tenor voice would be as solid as stone, shaking Zoé to the core. It wasn't disembodied, he was standing next to the young elm he usually stood against whenever he joined her in the woods. He wasn't leaning against it though, he was just looking at her coldly.

"Monsieur Larocque..."

"I said leave," the words were forced, as if he was biting back even harsher comments. Zoé stood, smoothing out her skirt before taking a step towards him, the confusion plastered onto her face, _Why is he angry at me?_

"Erik..."

"Go!" he boomed, making Zoé take a few shaky steps back. The pain in his eyes were mirrored in her own, but without another word she would turn and leave.

* * *

><p><strong>This is the end of Part II, hope everyone enjoyed. With school starting back up and a bunch of reading, I haven't gotten around to continuing to write Part III, sorry. I hope I get more free time and I'll try to post what I have so you aren't left without anything for too long of a time. I'll do my best. Thanks!<strong>

**-Celene**


	16. Part III

**Sorry for the long absence. My last semester of college was marked with both personal and educational issues/stressors that literally zapped my will to write for most of the semester. The good news is that Part III is done and I will update weekly throughout the month. I dunno when Part IV will come out, but it is the last part. Hope you still enjoy, thanks!**

PART III

"Avril! Avril, where is Thomas?" the rear door opened and the small plump woman would be standing on the door step, watching as Monsieur Larocque walked up the path of the pergola, Daroga trotting up behind. The leaves in the garden were thick, the last having fallen from the trees that stood above them. The pathway was darker, the leaves having caught in the vines, and what wasn't caught was strewn about the stone and grass creating a blanket of amber and yell. As they approached the kitchen door, Daroga would run over to Avril, looking to be pet, but the older woman didn't move, just watching Larocque move up the pathway. "Where is that son of yours?"

"He's not here Monsieur, he left this morning after his chores were done," she explained. He would stop, nearly eye level with her on that doorstep.

"I did not ask where he wasn't, Avril. I know he is not here. Where did the boy go?" He would step onto the bottom stair leading into the kitchen. He was now taller than Avril, just barely making her look up at him. "Do not lie to me."

"He went to go visit that girl. It's where he's been going now when he's done with his chores, whenever you went to the woods," Avril would turn and go back into the house, finishing up the loaves of bread she was placing in the oven. "He will be back a few hours before dinner. The girl is a cook and therefore has to get the meal prepared before her mistress comes home." There was a near growl from Larocque as he closed the door with a slam.

"I told him not to speak to her."

"You told him not to speak to Mademoiselle Roussel, and he hasn't," Avril assured, wiping her hands off on her apron before moving around the kitchen to prepare things for their own dinner. "You didn't say anything against him visiting Thérèse."

"It was implied," he growled back, Daroga pacing around looking for scraps as Avril worked.

"He means to only see the girl. Thomas said he ran into Mademoiselle Roussel only once," Avril turned back to look at Larocque, who was glaring at her. "The poor boy almost had a heart attack because he didn't want to get in trouble."

"What did your boy do?" he seemed a little amused and Avril just huffed, bringing over and armful of produce.

"Didn't talk to her. He said he was thinking up all these things to say to her if she said something to him, but she just gave him a small nod and walked on," Avril recited. "She hasn't spoken to him, though they see each other every once and a while."

"She smiled at him?"

"Politely yes, she's a nice girl and probably knew he was terrified," Avril continued. "He said she looked sad, maybe distracted... Thomas wasn't sure. He hasn't seen her in the past few weeks." Monsieur Larocque was about to open his mouth to ask another question, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried steps interrupted him. Thomas would come running in, a large smile on his face as he ran over to his mother, not even noticing Larocque near the back door, that brown hair a mess and his face flushed from what had to be a hard ride from the Roussel chateau.

"She stayed! She stayed," he laughed, hugging his mother who just let out a shout of surprise as her son swung her about. "Thérèse could have gone to Paris with Mademoiselle Roussel, but she chose to stay here so I could visit her!" He put her down, looking elated, until Monsieur Larocque cleared his throat. Thomas froze, his face flushing as he took a step back, looking at the hard gaze from those cold blue eyes. "Mmmonsieur Larocque." He stammered, the usually articulate man returning to a shy boy.

"What are you going on about?" Larocque asked, and Thomas looked from him to Avril and then back, shifting from foot to foot.

"Thérèse... um.. Thérèse Perrault works for Mademoiselle Roussel. Mademoiselle Roussel has been absent for a few weeks. She returned today from Paris, and Thérèse's mother was talking about how she missed a chance to go to Paris. Thérèse said she didn't go because she didn't want to miss my visits..."

"What did Mademoiselle Roussel do in Paris?" the question was icy, direct, and Thomas couldn't even look him in the eyes.

"I... I don't know. Business or something. She had just gotten back when I visited and I over heard them talking. When I entered they didn't say anything about her journey, only that she was in her drawing room," Thomas shifted from foot to foot, hesitantly glancing up at Monsieur Larocque after he was done. The man just nodded and stood, moving to leave that kitchen and stopping at the interior door.

"Your grandfather needs your help in the garden. Go help him," he said calmly and Thomas would nod, moving quickly around the kitchen and out the back door in minutes. Avril looked nervous and he would just shake his head. "The boy is not in trouble. If he's there, he might as well tell me useful information." With that he disappeared into the house and Avril let out a sigh of relief, turning back to her work.

XXxXXxXXxXX

"So who do we have left to pay back?" Zoé was sitting in her father's room, at his desk as he was in bed. A cough had made him bed ridden, making it harder for him to breath than usual. Zoé looked over her list, it having grown considerably smaller in the past few months, but still some of those names name her worried.

"We have a small sum to pay back to Monsieur Defraine, one of your friend's business partners, and another sum to Monsieur Saunier. The largest though... Monsieur d'Allemagne is still expecting a large amount from us," she reported, pushing back from the table and rubbing her temples.

"Yes... Luc's father was very generous after the fire," her father sighed before another fit of coughing silenced him. Zoé rose, grabbing the pitcher of water next to her and pouring a glass of water. She would sit next to him, offering him the glass as his frail body shook with each cough. The water went down with some difficulty, but would silence the cough in time. He let out a sigh, giving the glass back to Zoé, who placed it and the pitcher on his bedside table. "I've always hated this season... I'm not as strong as your mother. She would only get a cold, this season would always make me bed ridden at least once." Zoé just chuckled, smoothing out the covers on the bed.

"She had to be, with both of us being sick all the time."

"You were a healthy child..."

"Don't you remember when I got the flu? I was bed ridden for almost a month!"

"Ah yes, but you got it from me and I _was_ bed ridden for a month," Jacques-Gilles chuckled, another fit of coughs striking him and he would wave away Zoé's hand as she went to pour him another glass. "I'm... I'm fine child." The fit passed and the old man would rest.

"I'll let you sleep, Father," Zoé smiled weakly, kissing his cheek before rising to leave the room. The old man settled and Zoé shut the large wooden doors quietly before retreating to her own room, the sun having already set. Nadine would leave her room, a few candles lit in the pastel blue room, the dim light making it appear darker as Zoé settled in, changing into her nightgown and combing out her hair at the vanity.

A week in Paris had been needed to gather funds and pay off some of her father's debt. Luckily those that were left were friends of the family, patient and considerate of their position. They wouldn't wait forever though, so the next year would be lean, the necessities being the only expense, everything else would go to paying off those debts. Zoé put her brush down, a sigh escaping her lips as she stood and walked over to her bed. She would have to talk to Luc soon... about business of course, but she knew it would go back to what happened at the masquerade. He was so angry, like a child who had his toy taken away. Shaking her head, she pulled the covers over her, curling up under the fabric, a safe cocoon. Here she was safe from Luc, but the blankets and soft pillows couldn't protect her from that cool blue gaze that was pained and angry at the same time


	17. Part III: II

**Part III- II**

In his days at the Opera house, moving from room to room had never posed a problem. It was his home, his playground, a domain where he was the master of all that dwelled within. Now it was a burnt shell that people were still too frightened to enter. The chateau was similar, the passageways, the hidden doors, the maze of corridors, known only to him and those who lived under him. It was not as elaborate as the Opera Populaire, but it was enough to give him ease. He could disappear and appear as he wished, and that was how he liked it.

This chateau however, the two wings, two stories, multitude of tall windows with ivory borders, the tan stone darkened in the moonlight and making it seem like a massive shadow on a hill. It wasn't so difficult to get into, but without the layout, it was a bit of a challenge. That wasn't such a terrible thing. He had lingered at the bottom of the hill, watching as the last light in the second story extinguished, then he had moved in. Through the garden, keeping away from the stables, the wing where the servants slept. The lock off the garden was easy to pick, and now he stood in a study area, looking around the room and surveying the lay out.

A hardwood desk sat along the far wall, overlooking the gravel road that lead up to the front door. Rugs and plush sofas laid behind it, in a small U that faced the doorway that he entered in. The walls were covered with a few portraits, the walls a soft, relaxing color, not as extravagant as some of the other drawing rooms for ladies. He would take a step onto that hardwood floor, taking his time as he moved around, finally reaching that desk and sorting through the stacks of paper.

"Why so much money?" he whispered, looking over various folds of paper, stacks of business accounts, names, sums, dates... six years of financial downfalls that their successful business couldn't repair. He moved on, going through drawers, finding more papers, doctor's notes and recommendations, payments on the house and another property in Paris. A funeral sum. Two when he looked closer, though one was more expensive than the other. He closed up the compartments on the right and moved towards the left. The first drawer had pens and ink, but under it, in a much deeper drawer, sat documents with a recently disturbed layer of dust. They were addressed to her, letters from six years. Most of the letters were open, friends he assumed, and a few had that girl, Anna, name's scrawled over the front. The most recent all seem to come from Luc d'Allemagne. The most recent were not open, but many had dust covering them, a yellows color to the paper, discarded and forgotten. He closed that drawer, those fingers dancing over the wood, leather covering flesh as he searched to tried and uncover what business she did in Paris. The financial part was obvious, but was there a sign of anything else? Had she told anyone? Many in Paris would love to know that he still existed, if only to watch him hang with their own eyes. Gripping the edge of that desk, his rage was controlled enough to not make a sound, although in his mind he would like nothing better than to ring that Vicomte's neck with his bare hands. A noose would not be needed this time.

The sound of a clicking noise caught his attention, his thumbs, pressed under the desk with that firm grip, seemed to slide. It was mechanical, smooth, something shifting not breaking. He felt under the desk, grasping the wood and pulling, a sheet of wood giving in his hands. Bring it to the top, he examined it... the same color and grain as the drawing board she used. He touched the side gently, shifting that panel as Zoé had done many times, and the storage compartment would open.

A small cloth bag would be the first thing he saw, containing the charcoal and pencils she used. He would place it to the side, returning his hand to the box and pulling out that stack of parchments. A clear sheet rested over the rest, a faint drawing of flowers, a similar arrangement to the ones in the garden behind him. Flowers and other still life would cover the next few pages, a smirk covering his face. She had gotten better, but not so much as she could. One page would catch his attention, and he placed the others aside. The oak tree she always sat under was prominent. Branches tangling into the branches of the oaks and elms around it, those roots breaking up the ground and creating small valleys that she was so fond of sitting in. The tree was in winter, not a leaf on the gnarled thing. He could tell she had spent hours on it, marks betraying a meticulous focus on details. Everything was just right, a black and white representation of her favorite place... unfortunately it happened to be in his new domain, and she had angered him enough to be banished from it. He put it back into the hidden compartment, catching a glimpse of a black bordered letter. He didn't have to see the seal to know it was his. That first letter he had sent to her. Erik would take care to put it all as it had been, fumbling with that hiding place, but as the compartment clicked back into the slot under the desk, he would chuckle.

Noise from above would call his attention, and in a moment he would move to hide among the shadows, his cloak making him disappear into the inky shades. That was when he heard it, surprised that those ears had not caught the sound of coughing earlier. From right above him, footsteps would follow the opening of a door. Across the hallway and then stopping and opening another door. He heard her speak, though could not hear the words. There were other footfalls, a pair of them ascending a staircase in the main entrance way and entering the same room that Zoé must have. Voices raised a bit louder, and soon three would exit the room. The sound made it easier for Erik to move closer, under that stairwell, between a support column and the door to what he assumed was a ballroom.

"Should we call for the doctor, Mademoiselle?" a raspy voice would ask, the coughing echoing again. He could hear a sigh, her light footfalls pacing back and forth above him. "His cough is getting worse..."

"I know... I know Hugo. He won't see the doctor. An they telling me he will pass soon every time they visit. It has been six years and they say the same thing..."

"Dear, they know more than we do about this sort of thing..." a gentle woman's voice eased, only to be answered with an exasperated sigh and a stomp of a foot.

"They said he should have died and he didn't! They know more about medicine than we do, but they don't know everything," Zoé was frustrated, her voice nearly cracking as she tried to keep it a whisper. "They will just say this will kill him and do nothing to help..."

"Zoé, we have to do something," the man, Hugo, said and Erik swore he could feel the tension from the young woman above.

"Fine! Send Maxime and get the doctor. If I hear that man say that this will kill my father, I will send him out of this house before he can gather his wits!" she shot, moving off farther down the hall, and the faint noise of a door opening and closing ended her order.

As those two servants moved down the stairwell, Erik would stay silent, letting their footsteps grow silent as they turned into that far wing. He waited a few more minutes before moving up that stairwell. There were a few rooms stretched along the hallway, but the crackling of a fire brought him to the correct door. With practiced hands he opened the door, entering and closing it without a sound.

Dying embers glowed in the fireplace, keeping back the worse of the chill in the room. Another series of coughs echoed around him, but Erik did not worry to hide, the screen around the four poster bed keep his movements a secret from the occupant. He listened to the old man struggle for breath, the clinking of glass suggesting that he was keeping something to soothe his throat. There was no smell, it was probably water, and soon enough that old man was resting again. Erik moved closer, looking through that gauzy fabric at the frail body on the other side. He couldn't see the man's face, but his hands were clutching that comforter tight, thin and bony. He was old, but looked too frail to be a man of his age. Listening to the man breath, Erik would be silent, studying the man until another round of coughing caused him to withdraw and move over to the doors of the balcony. They were locked, and as the coughing continued, Erik heard the sound of footfall again.

"Father... why is the balcony open?" Zoé moved quickly over to the double doors, pulling on those brass handles and pulling the doors closed, snubbing the knock as the coughing grew worse. She moved to the bed, pulling back the screen to help him drink and the coughing soon died down.

"Hugo made you call the doctor, didn't he?" the voice was a hoarse whisper and Zoé would just nod, holding her father's hand.

"You know how firm he is... he always knows the right thing to do," she smiled weakly. The old man would just chuckle, another cough racking his frame.

"I am fortunate to have so many people around me who care..."

"How could we not care?" she said, moving from the bed only far enough to grab a chair and pull it closer to him. "Sleep father..."

"With this cough, there is no hope of that."

"You have to at least try." She pulled the covers up back over him before settling into the chair and pulling her robe around her. A few coughing fits later he would be asleep, and Zoé sat at his side, keeping the fire going and refilling that pitcher of water until she fell asleep too, curled up in that chair, her head on her knees


	18. Part III: III

**Part III-3**

"Hugo! Make him leave!" Sebastien was rushing in with Zoé from the garden, a terrified look on his face. The brown hair was matted, streaked with grey strands, and those dull grey eyes looked like a creature staring down the barrel of a gun. Her boots echoed through the house as she moved from the east wing over to the entrance, immediately going to the staircase as Nadine entered the hallway from Zoé's room.

"What's going on?" she looked at the petrified gardener behind her.

"The doctor is wishing to stay," Sebastien choked. Hugo was soon leaving Jacques-Gilles' room, looking bewildered as Zoé motioned sharply for him to come with her.

"That crook you sent Maxime for, he demands that we board him here," she said sharply

as the troop of four moved down those stairs. Hugo had asked them to go somewhere else to allow her father to sleep, and Zoé was quick to oblige.

"Zoé... that seems reasonable. Your father is very sick and he is already sleeping well..."

"That is because that doctor gave him a large quantity of alcohol," she snapped angrily, turning to face them. They were now in the front yard, her hands clutched into a fist and the evidence of sleepless nights marred her face. "The doctor also advices that I keep my father perpetually inebriated to ease his passing. He is sure this cough will be the death of him and wants to be here to make sure my father dies peacefully." Tears were pooling at the corners of her eyes, threatened to cascade over, but despite her resolve not to cry, her voice cracked under the effort. "I... I want him gone. He is just keeping Father drunk..."

"Zoé..."

"If he's not going to help then I want him gone!" she shouted. It was the third doctor in three days, each of the doctors before said there was nothing they could do besides. This doctor, a suggestion of Hugo's was even worse. The others knew better than to pronounce Monsieur Roussel imminent death in front of his daughter, they would allude to it, but never say it outright. This one however, found Zoé as she was reading in the garden to give her an update on her father's condition. After explaining how he had drugged the man to give him some relief, the doctor had continued to explain that her father's time was growing short and he should stay at the house to ease his passing. It took every bit of control Zoé had to restrain herself from slapping the doctor, but she had taken off to get Hugo to remove the infuriating man from her property.

As that peppered horse raced down the pathway, Zoé felt relieved and terrified at the same time. Relieved that the doctor was gone, unable to drug her father again, but all three had not been able to sooth her father's coughing. The old man was becoming exhausted, sleeping when he could, only to be awoken by the coughs. Hugo, Nadine and Zoé were doing their best to ease him, but he seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. Zoé moved quickly into the house, catching herself on a pillar, the stress making her feel light headed.

"Mademoiselle?" the voice was nervous, and she heard the sounds of someone approaching her. Turning, she saw the messy brown hair and deep brown eyes that belonged to Thomas. He looked nervous, and Thérèse stood behind him, a hand on his arm.

"Thomas..." she moved to wipe the near tears from her eyes. "I am sorry for my behavior... if you have seen it. The last few days have been quite stressful."

"I know Mademoiselle... Thérèse told me," he said gently, pulling away from Thérèse to step closer to Zoé. "My... Monsieur Larocque wished for me to give you this." From his coat pocket, he pulled out a small bottle, the blue glass made the liquid inside look black, kept back by a cork. "It will help with your father's cough... give it to him before he sleeps and when he wakes up." When Zoé's fingers grasped the bottle, Thomas pulled his hand back and quickly moved to walk away.

"Wait! Thomas how did you know?" she looked at Thérèse who shook her head quickly.

"No, I didn't tell him Mademoiselle." The young girl quickly turned to follow Thomas back to the kitchens Zoé turned to look back to Thomas, who had not stopped and was just disappearing behind the door to the kitchens. Looking at the bottle in her hand, she paused for a second. An exhale finally breaking the silence and she would move to that staircase, ascending quickly to her father's room.

XXxXXxXXxXX

"Larocque! I know you're out here!" Zoé was still on that skittish mare, moving through the small forest between their properties. She didn't know the path she took that night long ago, but she figured if she continued north she would eventually hit that creek and be able to find his home that way. "Show yourself!" There was nothing, even the birds had fallen silent to her yells. "Answer me!"

"No need to shout." Her horse would suddenly stop. Zoé looked at the forest line, only to feel the reins tense in her hands. Looking down, she saw him standing right beside her, the slack reins in his hand, calming the horse. "You don't want her to throw you again." Zoé gave him a sharp look, dismounting on the opposite side of her horse and moving around, taking the reins from him. He chuckled, "What has you so upset?"

"You know damn well," she shot angrily at him. She would find a low enough branch to tie her horse to, then turning to face him. "I want you to stay away from my home. You told me, quite angrily, to stay away from your woods and I have. You have no right to come onto my property, or into my home."

"Mademoiselle, I have no idea what you're talking about..."

"Don't lie to me! You have either been sneaking around my home, or have a crystal ball in that tower of yours and have been watching what has transpired in my house." Her cheeks were flushed, angry and frustration lacing her voice, breaking up the once calm and smooth tone. "First, Thomas gave me that medicine for my father's cough, and I was thankful. Then, a week after, the cough returned and not a day later Thomas had another vial. He had not even been in the house the day before, so there is no way he could have known. Sebastian cut himself badly on the shears, and before the doctor arrived the wound is bandaged and cleaned. The old man won't say a word as to who did it. And I came down with the flu, but there was never a doctor called, Nadine just gave me medicine that she said Thomas brought." She had approached him during her tirade, and although he did not retreat for the first few points, as her rage grew, the last few points made him take a step back. Her pointer finger was pressed on his chest, and she looked furious. "Stay out of my house! I will call the authorities next time I swear."

Larocque brushed her finger aside, "Even though I saved your father's life, twice now? And yours as well. If I was in your position Zoé, I would not have rode out here. The mist and cold will make you sick again." She glared at him as he walked, turning his back to her and making her even more angry.

"You don't have the right to break into my house! Stay away from my father!"

"What is wrong with him?" he turned, that porcelain face gazing on her and making Zoé's skin crawl. Her green eyes narrowed, and he turned to face her fully. "Well?"

"It is none of your business."

"I could pull back the curtains around his bed. Thus far I've been content with checking on his condition without that invasion of privacy, but believe me, I have been tempted."

"Don't," Zoé threatened, her hand trembling now as she raised it. "You can intimidate me, but if you touch my father I swear I will send word to Paris about you." Erik chuckled, closing the distance until he was inches from Zoé. Her anger made her steel herself, her green eyes staring into his blue as he looked down at her. She was soaked in his smell, knowing if he struck her it'd be the last thing she'd remember.

"It seems... we are at an impasse Mademoiselle Roussel," he chuckled, his eyes looking over her face. He raised his hand, the leather clad fingers pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, catching Zoé off guard.

"You asked me to respect your privacy, and I have," she looked up at him, that anger diffusing to something else. Worry and pain danced over her eyes and the Phantom soaked it up, power once again offered and taken from that look, her demeanor, everything he had back at the Opera house. "I left your woods when you asked, and I have stayed silent as well. Please Monsieur, I am asking you return the courtesy and respect my privacy."

"You are in debt to me, Zoé. I can choose how it is repaid, and information seems to be something that you have, but I want."

"Then pick other information and I will give it. Leave my father out of this," she said quickly, "Please." Erik smiled, being out of contact with the world made the isolation even more absolute. At the Opera he could hear about any aspect of Paris, politics, economics, culture, foreign events, everything from the conversations of the patrons. They would watch the performance but talk, gossip and divulging their information to him. Although his curiosity made him want to know what ailed Monsieur Roussel, the control he had over her in that regard was too potent to be spoiled.

"You visit Paris regularly, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then you will get me information. I will send inquiries and topics and you will gather what I want. I may also ask you to procure items I need but cannot acquire myself. You'll be compensated when I receive them."

"What if I do not have the money?"

"Do not worry Zoé, I know your financial capabilities." That earned him a cold look and Zoé broke their gaze, pulling away from him and moving off to her horse. She reached for the reins, only to have a much larger hand encase hers.

"I am not done."

"I am," Zoé snapped, pulling her hand out of his grasp and untying that horse. A hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her harshly to face him.

"If you want me to continue giving you medicine for your father, then you will listen to what I have to say," he hissed, that grip would tighten for a painful instant, but then soften, the leather clad thumb stroking the flesh of her inner wrist gently. "Whenever you return from Paris, you will come here. I will be waiting at that oak you like so much." He let go of her hand, taking a few steps back. "Don't make me wait Zoé."


	19. Part III  IV

**So here is the deal. Graduate school is keeping me much busier than I expected, plus my motivation for writing has faltered (I blame the papers I have to write for school). Hopefully when I get to midterm, Thanksgiving and Winter break my mind will recharge enough to continue working on the last Part. I've started it, now I just need to finish it. Thanks for staying with me guys. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Part III- 4<strong>

"Zoé, if you sleep in that chair another night you will destroy your back," she stirred to the sound of raspy laughing, looking up to see her father at his desk, leaning over a piece of parchment. He was thin, his skin even paler and his hair was thinning. This winter was especially harsh on him, the coughs keeping him bed ridden and ruining his appetite. She would tilt her head, feeling her neck crack, the stiff position making her limbs ache. She reached to gather the cream colored shaw, putting it back around her. She stretched, stood and straightened out her skirt before going over to her father.

"You should be resting..."

"I can rest sitting up just as much as lying down," he chuckled, straightening that curved back as she sat down at his side. "You've been here nearly every night for a week. Is something bothering you?" The light from the candles were dancing off the walls, casting shadows on both of them, the curtains on the balcony doors looked pitch black instead of green. Zoé sighed, her father taking her hand and giving her a gentle squeeze. "Tell me, little bird. I may be old, but I'm still your father." She sighed, squeezing his hand back.

"I've... I've just been worried about you father. This winter has not been kind to you..."

"Ah yes... I should have you to thank though for my health. If you had not befriended Monsieur Larocque, Hugo assured me I would have passed." Zoé let go of her father's hand, shaking her head as she ran her hands over it.

"He is the source of my frustration Father..." This earned a chuckle from the old man and Zoé gave him a sharp look, only earning another laugh.

"Zoé, you have not been frustrated because of a man since you were a child. Fortunately you overcame that quickly, to Monsieur d'Allemagne's disappointment." Zoé shot out of her seat, as if he had just shocked her with electricity.

"It is not like that! He's arrogant and rude and so prideful that it makes the air around him thick, and heavy and unbearable!" she stormed, her father watching her closely. "He treats me like a child, and yes, he has helped you, but he acts like he is a god."

"He is a confident man Zoé, at least from what you say. Did you not say the same thing about Luc?"

"Yes, I did. Luc is disgusting though, treating people like objects and game in his hunts..."

"And Monsieur Larocque does not?"

"No...well... Thomas says he treats them well. But he acts like I'm a child..."

"You are rushing around my room, stomping your foot and venting about..." Zoé turned on a dime, her skirt flaring around her as her father chuckled. "You remind me of you when you were seven and one of the girls said you acted too much like a boy... If I remember correctly, that is when your mother and I started calling you little bird. You use to flutter about complaining about boys and girls at school."

"This is different," she pouted, then catching herself and letting out a frustrated groan. "It's just infuriating."

"That he tells you that you act like a child when you do? I think he is just being observant, and he's brave. No one else, not even Luc, does that," her father chuckled, leaning back in his chair. Zoé just sighed, returning to her seat. Her father took her hand, patting it gently, "It seems you have met your match Zoé."

"That does not mean I have to be happy about it."

"Do not worry little bird," he squeezed her hand. "I do not think he will be too cruel."

Zoé returned to her room only after her father sent her, she could barely keep her eyes open and he wouldn't allow her to stay. She placed that shaw over one of her chairs, noticing that the fire had been built back up. She froze, looking at the flames, the area around the hearth, looking for some sign of whom had stoked the coals to made the timber catch. Zoé took a hesitant step towards it, but her brow creased and she groaned. "Nadine was probably here before me..." Why did she immediately think Larocque had done it? He had not denied that he infiltrated her house, but surely he had boundaries. Zoé moved over to her vanity, picking up her comb, eliminating the knots in her hair, lost in her own thoughts and the mundane task. She tried to think of everything, anything except that last visit to the woods. That had been days, and yet there was no sign of him or the task he promised to give her.

Zoé would put down her comb, those hands instead picking up locks of hair to intertwine, braiding her hair back for the night as she chewed on her bottom lip. Black tresses coming together and weaving into one long strand under her fingertips. She sighed, it was getting cumbersome and she would have to cut it soon, the braid reaching near her mid back. One hand held the end of the braid while the other went to grab a cord from the table. Concentrating on keeping the braid together, her hand moved blind over the desk, brushing over a piece of parchment before finally coming to rest on a piece of ribbon. Her hand froze though, parchment? It was like electricity coursed through her, her hand jerking back quickly, that ribbon between her fingers. The sound of the paper dropping was drowned out by her heartbeat as she quickly secured her braid, her hands coming to rest on her lap.

It fell while she was tying that ribbon, floating and swaying in the air before it came to rest to her right. She leaned over her chair, looking at the black bordered parchment, her first name scrawled onto the front with an elegant script. A shaking hand, seeming to work on it' s own, would reach down to pick it up. The handwriting was too elegant to be Luc's... or any other person she corresponded with. Even if it had been... she kept all of her letters in the study area off the east wing. Turning the letter over, the dark red seal impressed with a rose. She exhaled, her breath sounding more labored then she anticipated, and then her fingers moved, breaking the seal.

XXxXXxXXxXX

"Violette! They're back!" Hugo called from the foyer. The older woman would wipe her hands on her apron before pulling it off, moving out of the kitchen and through the hallways. She had to pick her skirt up as to not trip, rounding the corner into the entrance way as Thérèse entered, a bundle under her arm, followed closely by Zoé, and then Maxime who was carrying their bags. The old woman smiled, giving off a small laugh as she rushed over to her daughter, giving her a hug.

"Mother!"

"I'm so glad you're back," Violette was smiling ear to ear, taking her daughter's bag from Maxime and Hugo took Zoé's walking upstairs with her, while Violette and Thérèse moved to their own quarters. "How was you're trip?"

"Oh it was fantastic!" Thérèse beamed, clutching the bundle to her chest. "Paris is wonderful Mother! The buildings are so tall, and there are so many people. They have food from all over the world, and they have dresses and fabrics from every corner as well. It was magical." Violette chuckled, watching as Thérèse laid that bundle down. "Mademosielle Roussel gave me an allowance and I was able to get everyone gifts for Christmas," from within the bundle, she would produce a pair of gloves, made of supple leather, and a thick shaw, handing them to her mother. "These are for you Mother."

"Thérèse, they're beautiful." Violette took them, running her hand over the fabric, beckoning her daughter to sit down on the bed. "Tell me about your trip."

"When we arrived, we checked into the most beautiful hotel. It was on the Seine, and our room looked out on the waterfront. I saw boats going to and fro every day, parties and meetings on the barges. I never even thought you could do that. Zoé went to Monsieur's business, and was out for much of the week. She gave me a list of goods for the home to acquire, and every night we would go to some wonderful restaurants. There was one just outside the hotel that we went to often, but there were others throughout the town. We ran into many of her friends, and were out for most of the night." Thérèse got up, her face beaming as she recited the events. "We even went to the opera house! There was a show, and her friends pressed her to go. She bought me a dress to wear and we attended one of the shows. It was wonderful Mother! I'm so glad Zoé invited me along." Her mother would smile, standing up and hugging her daughter.

"I'm glad you enjoyed dear."

"Did Thomas visit?"

"Oh, yes. A few times actually," Violette chuckled, placing those gifts down. "There are a few notes there on your bed. Now unpack and come help me in the kitchen." Thérèse would nod, moving to her bag as Violette left, returning to prepare dinner.


	20. Part III: V

**Part III-5**

The sky was painted in maroon and purple, the sun barely visible over the horizon, and as Zoé entered the woods, the sky above her was beginning to turn to a dark violet and blue. The moon was starting to creep above the barren trees, and she would tether her horse to a small tree before continuing on foot. In the darkness she had to focus, remembering the path she took, but at night everything looked different, and even with her fur lined cloak, she was freezing. It was not like she could have come sooner, there was business at home she had to attend to, her father was curious about his affairs, and Thérèse recounted everything, resulting in numerous questions from the rest of the staff. Zoé had barely a second to herself, and Maxime was reluctant to let her ride at night. Blaming restlessness, Zoé was just able to get out, and now moved through the woods, cursing herself. Why was she doing this? Following his will like a stupid child, it was upsetting. The answer came as quick as the question; he could keep her father alive, and he could break into her home. His success in manipulating her made Zoé angrier, and by the time she reached that oak, her cheeks were flushed red, from the cold, exertion and anger.

There was nothing, the forest silent as a graveyard, except for the crunching of her boots on leaves and twigs. In the darkness, the roots were hard to see and Zoé nearly fell as her toes caught on one of the outcrops. Catching herself, however, Zoé would resign herself to sitting down, trying to decide how long she should wait. The wind would pick up, and she quickly hid her face in the lining of her cloak, the cold bringing tears to her eyes and causing her shake. Her hands were curled into fists, those covered hands going numb in the wind. Zoé couldn't tell seconds from minutes, her wait seeming like it was going on for eternity as the warmth was slowly sapped from her limbs.

When she couldn't take anymore, she shot to her feet. Those toes were numb, a dull ache stretching through her feet as she moved, navigating the twist of roots carefully. She was shivering, her body visibly shaking as she cursed herself. A few steps away from the tree, those numb toes hit a stone, hidden by leaves and the sheen from an early snow. She gasped, her weight continuing forward, and although she could move her arms, she doubted her numb fingers could save her from hitting the ground. Before impact however, a pair of strong arms caught her.

She was pulled to someone's chest, and as she smelt sandalwood, resin and the sharper smell of smoke, Zoé knew who it was. The normal reaction of withdrawing was out of the question, she could barely get those limbs to move at her command, and he was warm. The heat was like a smoldering fire, melting the ice from her limbs, and she was being drawn to it. That black cloak was pulled around her, and when she mustered the strength, she looked up into Erik's face. An amused smile played on his lips, those eyes burning into hers, and one hand moved to brush some stray strands of hair from her face, those fingers warm on her chilled flesh when he pushed it behind her ear.

"Laroque..."

"You're late." Her face tilted, confusion dancing through her eyes, and in an instant that warmth retreated. The cold hit her in the face and Zoé fumbled to grab the corners of her cloak, pulling it tight around her trembling body, watching as Erik circled her, clicking his tongue softly. "I told you not to be late..." Zoé tried to keep her eyes trained on him, but as he continued to move, she couldn't keep up, her breath coming out in a thick mist.

"I came as quick..."

"You've been home for six hours... at least. If you came as quickly as you could, you would have been here within an hour of arriving... and spared yourself the bitter cold," he chuckled, coming to rest just to the right of her.

"I... I had things to do... my father had questions..." the cold was making her stammer and struggle to think. He was watching her closely, and she was doing the same, pulling that cloak tighter around her body as she turned to face him. "I cannot just drop everything to cater to your whims."

"It would be wise to do just that, if you wish to continue to receive my aid," his face grew a little harder. "Were you at least able to follow any of the instructions I gave you?" Zoé sighed, retrieving a fold of paper from her pocket and holding it out, her hand trembling in the cold.

"All the inquires, I did my best to answer them," he would approach slowly, taking the parchment and unfolding it. "What items you wanted will be delivered tomorrow. They are addressed to Avril and Thomas... I assumed you would like to have some discretion as to who lived in your home." That little detail earned her a smirk, spreading across his face and he was quick to fold the paper back up. Without another word he would turn, that cloak fanning around him as he turned on his heels, heading off towards his home, leaving Zoé in a state of silent confusion. Another strong wind passed through those trees and she shivered, her cheeks flushed red from the cold and embarrassment. Gripping the edges of her cloak, she pulled them tight over her body and headed back to her horse, unable to feel her extremities.

Before she took more than a few steps, she felt that warmth against her back. Strong arms wrapped around her, the smell of smoke engulfing her as the heat seeped into her flesh and helped her to recover. Zoé was not taken aback as she had before, turning to face him, her hand raised to slap him, frustration and anger gaining the upper hand. He did not let her withdraw, one hand wrapped around her waist as the other caught her hand, inches from his left cheek. His black gloves contrasted on her pale flesh, and Zoé shivered as she felt that thumb trace the underside of her wrist, over that thin skin. He leaned forward, and Zoé just felt his lips press against her forehead. Those lips were soft, warm, and she had no idea how to react. Her green eyes looked up into his own, wide and surprised, but he would only smile. "Thank you." With that he would leave Zoé frozen in her tracks.


	21. Part III: VI

**Part III- 6**

His boots crunched the newly fallen snow as he moved up that twisting path, the usually vibrant colors of his garden were muted by winter. Barren branches still covered the wooden trellis, breaking up the fading sunlight that lit his path. He had dwelt in the woods for hours, for the past few days, waiting for any sign of Zoé. The girl was strong, but always seemed drawn back into those woods within a day or two. The allure was understandable, there it was peaceful, and the occupants within removed from the stress of life. He worried, however, that he had placed too much stress on his little informant. She had done admirably, but Erik didn't know how long she would last. She was stronger than the ballet rats, the stage hands, even the crew of his opera house, Madame Giry was the only one who could withstand years of dealing with him. She had saved him and provided for him when he escaped the freak show. The old ballet master had put a lot of stock and effort into his being, where Zoé Roussel was only the in debt and dependent on him for medicine. Although placed in a tough position, she was not nearly as devoted or involved in existence when compared to Madame Giry. He knew the limits at which the ballet instructor would break, the same was not true for Zoé.

He could hear voices from inside the kitchen. It was Avril and her boy, and that father-in-law, all probably finishing their dinner after the house work had been completed. He was fortunate to have the entire family under his employment, it made it easier for them to keep silent. Those who they would tell were already living within his home and there was no one else for them to contact. They seemed to accept the conditions of their arrangement, he allowed them to come and go as they pleased, even venture into town, so long as all the chores were taken care of. His only requirement were that they keep the details of his life a secret, and to ensure that, he made sure that only Avril was allowed to enter his tower. Their voices filtered down to him through that wooden door and the few yards that stood between him and the house. Milon was finishing up some statement on how bitter the past few days had been, and the sound of Avril moving quickly around the kitchen caught his attention. Although during the day the woman was insufferable, stomping everywhere she went, but the girl was a hard worker and he admired that. In the evening her pacing usually diminished, but the tempo in which she was moving was more akin to her midday routines.

"Poor girl! Why would anyone be out in this cold at such a late hour?"

"Thérèse said that she had wanted a ride to quiet her thoughts after dinner. She stayed out for a few hours. They almost sent out a search when she came riding back. Thérèse said she was frozen to the touch."

"Even beasts won't do anything so foolish. A walk would have been better, and wouldn't leave you bed ridden," Milon finished off the glass of wine in his hand, setting it onto the wooden work table with a side. "I hope she recovers."

"Her doctors have been at the house, and Monsieur d'Allemagne has tried to have his physician see her, but she won't allow it. She thinks she will improve, but the doctors think she still has a long way to go. She's chilled and I could hear her coughing from the main floor," Thomas sighed, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "Thérèse is terrified that she won't recover."

"Have you told Monsieur Larocque?"

"What? No, mother. I haven't seen him since I've been back..."

"He was taking a walk down by the creek. He's been brooding more than usual these past few days."

"Sh! Milon, he may hear you." Avril chastised. "And I was just thinking he would want to know, since they visited each other so often in autumn."

"Yes, and now he's brooding," Milon responded. "And been cooped up in that tower. I wouldn't bring it up Avril. Besides, he finds out about things before we even think about them. He'll find out eventually." Avril shifted back and forth, putting pots and pans from dinner away, cleaning up the kitchen before they all retired for the night.

"He'll be in soon... you should tell him Thomas."

"If he asks, I will Mother, but Grandfather is right. He'll find out sooner or later, he probably already knows."


End file.
